Book 1 - Nightingale
by vvshadowmaiden
Summary: After being forced by the Thalmor to run from her home in Cyrodiil , Riviere ended up in Skyrim where she had to build a new life for herself from the age of fourteen. However she was taken in by the Thieves' Guild, and has since become an important member (despite what Mercer Frey thinks of her.)
1. Prologue

Prologue

_Excerpt from the journal of Riviere Kalgaarde;_

_First Day of First Seed, 4E 201_

My brother always told me that if I ever found myself in more trouble than I could handle at present, more trouble than could be solved by a bag of gold or some witty persuasion, I should run. Run like the world was after me, he said, and keep on running until I knew I was safe. He always made a big point of telling me that running wasn't always a sign of cowardice, but rather an act of self-preservation that was generally a good alternative to a fight, especially an unfair one. He also told me that if I ever needed it, there was a place far away from home where I was guaranteed safety and protection, and that there were people there who would take care of me like one of their own (with a little persuasion, of course.)

But my brother also repeatedly told me that I should never have to run for my life, nor have to find that place for myself, because he was going to stand by his little sister always, and protect her from the world, and together we would take on the world.

Eventually though, the day finally came when I did have to run. Run like the world was after me. And to this day, I haven't stopped running. The world, in a way, is truly after me now, its fiery breath breathing down the back of my neck as my tired feet continually struggle to carry me to the safety of the shadows. So still I run, and dodge every attack hurled in my direction, because I can't hide forever. I don't intend to give up, not ever. But I do want to be able to make things as right as I can, not just for myself but for the rest of Tamriel.

There's one more thing that my brother said to me, something that will always be at the centre of my mind, not matter where I am or where I go…

_The world doesn't change itself, for better or for worse. It bends to the thoughts and actions of the people who live on it. Therefore, my dear sister, you can change the world._

And that is exactly what I intend to do.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter I

The shouts from the streets above had now begun to filter down into the keep. The cold deep passageways were beginning to echo with words of a fiery attack. The shouts had even started to wind their way down into the deepest, darkest, and certainly most unpleasant chambers in the keep, to a place where very few people walked willingly into, save for the occasional guard transporting a prisoner to a cell, and the old Breton who called this room of Torture his workplace and home. The old man sat silently in his wooden chair near the centre of the chamber, his tired grey eyes looking curiously up the stairwell leading down from the town above, towards the source of the commotion. He was curious as to what exactly was happening, as no one had brought word to him yet of the apparent attack, but he was not curious enough to leave the relative safety of his workplace. So he didn't. He did figure, though, that it sounded bigger than just a few escaped rebels from the execution that was supposed to be taking place, and he had thought that he had heard something about a giant beast. The old man muttered something to himself and gently massaged his pale, wrinkled forehead with the equally pale and incredibly bony fingers of his left hand. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, raspy breath before slowly opening them to let them wander slowly around his chamber. It wasn't a particularly large room, but it certainly wasn't claustrophobic either. Its walls were of cold stone, with wooden support beams running along their lengths, about a metre apart from each other. It was expectedly sparse for what it was, with very little furniture except for a low wooden table in the centre of the room, and the torturer's chair beside that, both of which were backed up against a wooden support column. The table was covered with a few items of clutter: a black book, its cover embellished with the silver likeness of a dragon; a small iron dagger, its old blade mottled with dark red and brown smudges; and a small leather pouch. In one corner of the chamber was a barred-in wooden counter, which was usually empty and seldom used. Only a few tankards, empty bottles or old rags sat on the shelves beneath it. Behind the counter was an old chest made from some kind of dark wood, and a few blades were hanging on a wall mounted rack. The old man continued to gaze around his room, muttering something again under his breath as he listened to more shouting from above, this time sounding slightly nearer. Still trying to ignore his slowly increasing curiosity, he sighed and shifted in his seat before proceeding to admire his surroundings. His grey eyes moved along the walls that were lined with the metal cells in which he kept his prisoners. Most of the cells were empty as usual, most of them being home to nothing more than some old blood stains and small pieces of torn fabric. There was one pair of cells along the back wall that did contain some unwilling visitors, or at least what was left of them. The cell on the left contained the recently deceased corpse of a hooded mage, a man much similar in appearance to the torturer himself, but far younger. This particular mage had been supposedly accused of espionage and treason against the great Empire, so he was brought here to be interrogated, which ended in his demise, and the gain of very little information. The cell to the right of the mage contained a bare skeleton, obviously a much older resident of the chamber. These remains were most likely left as a gruesome display to try and intimidate any prisoners into quick submission, as some people need very little persuasion to surrender whatever they can in exchange for their life if they think they are in danger. The old Breton stared over his right shoulder for a moment at the corpse of the mage, and a small yet satisfied smirk appeared upon his cracked lips. But his expression dimmed as he twisted slightly to peer over his other shoulder at one final cell, part of a row that were set back into the wall itself, on the farthest side of the chamber from the entry corridor leading down from the streets above.

The cell was about a metre and a half from one side to another, and about three metres from the floor to the ceiling. Colder and darker than most of the other cells, its damp stone sides were scratched, clawed, and in some places had stained a dark reddish-brown. The back wall was dripping with moisture and featured two iron wrist bars with individual locks on them, both securely chained to the wall. This cell was usually kept for the most dangerous prisoners, as its bars were thicker and stronger than most of the others, and its intricate lock was nearly impossible to pick, even from the outside of the cell, by someone who _wasn't_ shackled to the wall. This cell had never allowed the escape of a prisoner. This apparent level of security, then, was the most likely reason why not many hours before, the old torturer had received a letter and a large sum of gold to request that this cell be reserved for a "special guest", a guest that now lay motionless on the cold, stone floor.

* * *

_Earlier..._

The courier came early that morning, just as the sun was rising above the mountains and shedding its warm golden glow over the town of Helgen. The young messenger, carrying only the letter in his right hand and a small pouch attached to his belt, ran through the gates and towards the doors to the keep until he was stopped by a patrolling Imperial guard. "Hold it there, son," the tall, blonde guard said in a soft but deep Nordic accent. The guard then looked closer at the young courier, also a Nord only much shorter, thinner, and with short brown hair. "Where are you going with that?" said the guard as he gestured towards the small envelope in the courier's hand. The young messenger hesitated for a moment, and instinctively tightened his grip on the envelope, before replying shakily "I have an urgent message for the, uh… the torturer, sir."

"Interrogator," corrected the guard.

"Right," continued the courier as he looked uneasily in the direction of the keep.

"Who is this message from, then?"

"I…I'm not quite sure, sir. I was handed this by a man in a hood, or maybe an Elf. He sounded more like an elf… But I didn't really see his face. There isn't anything written on the envelope either, and of course I didn't open it. No sir, I sure as hell didn't open it! But, there is a seal on the back…I don't know what it is."

The courier loosened his grip on the envelope and turned it over to show the guard the wax seal on the back of the envelope. At first, the guard wasn't sure either, but then he seemed to recognize the symbol, for a frown quickly spread across his face. The guard sighed, and then returned the small envelope to the messenger.

"I'll take you down to deliver the message, kid," said the guard, trying hard not to let the anger he was feeling about the letter's origin show.

"Thank you, sir" replied the young courier, relaxing a little. He was glad that he didn't have to go down there alone.

The two Nords walked through the keep until they reached the interrogation room, where they found the old Breton man pacing slowly around the chamber. The man stopped pacing when he saw the two approaching Nords and gruffly asked them to state their business. The young courier, at the prompt of the guard, gingerly handed over the envelope to the interrogator, and then unhooked the small pouch from his belt which he also handed to the old man. Then the guard escorted him back out again, neither of them caring to stay much longer in the room of Torture. The old man turned the envelope over to the side with the seal, and squinted at the wax impression to try and make out the symbol. He recognized the symbol almost immediately, and quickly yet carefully tore into the envelope to read its contents. The note, written in a very elegant hand, read as follows:

_ To the Interrogator presently on duty,_

_I am to the knowledge that your particular establishment contains a particular cell of unusually high security, something that has been effective in containing high-risk prisoners in the past. This note is to notify you that we are hereby reserving the aforementioned cell, no matter whether it is currently in use or not. A prisoner is en route to your location, and should arrive within the next two imprisoned, the prisoner is to be left alone until her escort arrives in the afternoon. Keep watch from a distance, but the prisoner shouldn't be much trouble as long as your cell lives up to its pouch that you should have received along with this message should contain sufficient payment for your services._

_Thank you kindly,_

_Elenwen_

_First Emissary of the Thalmor to the Kingdom of Skyrim_

The old man was both intrigued and a little worried at the contents of the message. He didn't trust the Thalmor, that was for sure, but he knew better that to cross them, as the incoming occupant of the now reserved cell obviously had. He wondered what kind of prisoner the Thalmor need the secure cell for. Probably an orc, or something like that, he thought. Something big and angry, he guessed. The old man then turned his attention towards the small pouch that had arrived along with the message. He turned the little leather bag over in his bony hand and weighed it in his palm before opening the top and then emptying its contents into his other hand. Out of the pouch rolled seven grape sized diamonds that sparkled delicately in the soft lighting of the chamber. The old man's eyes widened as he stared at the very expensive pile of gems in his palm. He gently toyed with each one, and even though he was no appraiser of precious stones, he guessed that their bright white glow meant that they were genuine. After admiring his payment for a few minutes, he replaced the gems in the pouch and then put the small leather bag on the table in the centre of the room. The old Breton then walked over to behind the barred-in counter, picked up an old wooden chair and then set it down beside the table on which his gems now rested. He sat down in the chair, and after admiring the small leather pouch once more, he closed his eyes and would have fallen asleep except for the running of feet that clattered clumsily along the corridors and into the chamber. A boy, only slightly younger than the messenger who had arrived not too long before, leaned on the wooden doorframe of the entryway for a few seconds to catch his breath. He ran a lightly tanned hand through a mass of tight, dark curls hanging over his face and pushed them back over his head. The older man, still seated in his chair, opened his eyes to look upon the boy who was now standing himself up and walking into the room. He sighed and rubbed his eyes as the boy spoke.

"Sorry I'm late," said the boy, "but I got held up getting out of town this morning, and then with the execution proceedings and all it was hard to get past the guards up there and then I…"

"Enough," the old man cut him off. For a second, he was ready to lecture the kid on tardiness and why he had no idea why he had ever taken the boy as his apprentice in the first place, but he thought better of it and just muttered something to himself. While he didn't want to encourage tardiness, he knew how difficult it was to find a willing apprentice, and decided it was best if he didn't lose his current assistant. "You're here now, so just get to work. And clean this place up, if possible. We're expecting guests sometime soon." The assistant ran off again, this time to get a broom.

* * *

The sound of footsteps could once again be heard on the cold stone stairways, only this time the feet did not run, but stepped much softer than people usually did when wandering down through the keep. Around the corner and into the chamber strode three visitors. Well, two of them strode while the third shuffled slowly in between the others. The two escorts were tall and slender, and were clad in black robes embellished with intricate gold designs, the instantly recognizable black robes of the agents of the Aldmeri Dominion. These two Thalmor were no less haughty than the rest of their kind, and stood with the arrogant postures associated with their people. The third person, the one in between the two agents, was a young human woman. She was quite tall, and had the fair skin of a Nord, though her chestnut hair, hazel eyes and thin build suggested that she was instead a young Imperial with strong Nordic heritage. She stood there between the agents, her hands tied behind her back, and a gag of old cloth was tied around her mouth, both of which were causing her quite an amount of discomfort by this point. She tried to flex her arms a little to relieve some of the pain, but her movement had apparently been more sudden than she realised. Her action caused the Thalmor escort on her left to wheel quickly around and with a deft movement of his right arm he sent her sprawling back on her heels. Eventually she toppled over painfully onto her backside where she would sit for the next few minutes as the two agents turned to the now wide eyed interrogator. The old man was still struggling to comprehend the scene before him, not because of the prisoner's treatment but at her appearance. He had observed her curiously as soon as the trio had entered the room, and had estimated that the girl was probably somewhere around the age of eighteen. Why the Thalmor could be holding this girl as a prisoner, he could not imagine. She was perhaps the most non-threatening person that the old man had ever seen in his chamber, yet apparently she was to be the occupant of his high-security cell. The old man desperately wanted to ask why in the name of Julianos the Thalmor were taking a young person such as this prisoner, and even more importantly why they needed the use of such a cell as was meant to hold the mightiest of warrior. But he thought better of it. After all, he knew that the two elves could just as easily throw him in that cell, or worse.

"You're here for the reserved cell, yes?" said the old man, trying desperately to hide the sense of surprise mixed with the rising irritation in his voice.

The two agents stared back at the interrogator for a moment, apparently hoping to have received a slightly more gracious welcome, but then the one who had moments earlier sent the prisoner to the floor, and evidently the more senior of the two, stepped forward and spoke with an expectedly haughty accent,

"Of course. Why else do you think we'd be down in this pit of... well, this pit."

This remark made the old man flinch in a sudden pang of anger, but again he managed to restrain himself. He took a deep breath and relaxed his stance a little.

"Anyway," continued the elven agent, "as you have undoubtedly already received your payment and instructions as to how we expect our guest to be treated..."

The girl, still on the floor, let out a muffled grunt signifying her opinion on the term 'guest'. Her express of opinion earned her the harsh sting on her face such is left by the back of a gloved hand. She winced, but then her face relaxed, and had the gag not been over her mouth, she may have been showing a smile.

"As I was saying," sighed the lead elf again, only now visibly irritated, "you understand what we require of you?"

"Yes," replied the interrogator. "Keep watch, from a distance. Make sure she doesn't try anything, of course. But she shouldn't be any trouble because the cell should be able to hold..."

"Yes, yes. This task isn't too complex, so even you should be able to do as you have been told."

Again, the old man flinched in anger, but again managed to restrain himself from letting his fist fly towards the elf's gut. After all, there were two of the agents, and both were taller and probably stronger than the old Breton, who in his age had become frailer than he would have liked.

The other elf, the one who had been standing oddly silent to the right of the prisoner for the whole time, stuck his left arm under the prisoner's right and hauled her to her feet. The interrogator took this as his signal to lead the agents and their 'guest' towards her cell. "Follow me. Please," he said with a false smile, putting a facetious amount of emphasis on the word _please._ He led the others across the chamber to the cell that had been kept aside for the Thalmor to leave their prisoner for the day. The old man reached for a ring of keys than was dangling from one of his belt loops, and fumbled through the collection of brass coloured keys until he came to the one he was looking for. He placed the old, rusty key into the lock and twisted it around for a few seconds to open the door, as the lock was old and stiff, which only made it harder to open. This made the elves smile, as even though they were waiting impatiently, they could see that even with the key, it was hard to open the door. The old man finally heard the click as the tumblers rolled into place and the lock opened. He pulled open the heavy metal door for the two agents, who quickly heaved the girl into the cell. She landed with a hard thump as her back pounded against the back wall, almost knocking all strength from her body. She slumped quite lifelessly to the floor and lay there as she tried to take deep breaths and ignore the pain that was now coursing through her being. Fumbling again through his keys, the interrogator produced a much smaller one than before and handed it to the agents, telling them it was for the wrist shackles. He gestured to the two iron braces that hung down to the floor, each connected about halfway up the wall by means of a long, thick chain attached to each one.

"Well, I don't think they're really necessary since she's already bound," said the old man, "but it can't hurt to take extra precautions."

"While I agree that she shouldn't be able to escape as is," said the ever haughty senior agent with a smirk, "those shackles look terribly uncomfortable."

Taking the key from the interrogator, the elven agents picked up the girl who was still lying on the floor and held her against the wall in an uncomfortable upright position.. They opened the shackles, and by pulling the girl's arms across in front of her chest, placed her right wrist in the left shackle, and her left wrist in the right shackle, so that she was propped up tightly against the wall and unable to move. Still half dazed, she just stared past the elves and out into the chamber towards a flickering light near the outer hallway, obviously realizing that she was really trapped now, and there was nothing she could do. The two agents finished locking their prisoner away into her cell, and as soon as the interrogator had once again locked and secured the cell, they turned to leave. The old man followed them to the doorway, but before he could sigh in relief at their departure, the lead agent turned and said,

"If anything... happens..." he said, "we shall be up above in the town, overseeing the execution. But don't bother us unless it's incredibly important, mind you. We aren't here to deal with petty issues and complaints."

And in much the same fashion as they had arrived, the agents left, sauntering back out into the corridors and up into the town above. Still standing by the doorway, the old Breton could let out his sigh of relief. He still wasn't entirely sure of what had happened just now, but he wasn't sure that he really wanted to know. Feeling a little weary all of a sudden, the old man sat down in his chair once more, and let his eyes slowly close as he drifted off into a light slumber.

The figure chained to the wall was sitting quite motionless on the damp floor. She was very uncomfortable now, but even though the shackles that bound her to the wall were tight and secure, she thought that maybe the long chains would still allow her to lie down, as long as she was right up against the back wall. The chains would not extend very far, and thus she could not move any further forward than about half way across the cell, but after sitting for a few minutes more she had recovered enough of her strength to swing her legs and torso girl managed to turn herself around in her place to be facing the back wall, and was then able to loosen the now twisted chains just enough to allow herself to lie down on the floor.

* * *

The shaking of the chains awoke the man in his chair, and he quickly wheeled around to face the cell. He was immediately overcome by a sense of dread that maybe today of all days was to be the day when his security was internally breached. As he stared intently at the cell, he could see very little movement. All he could see was the slight shuffle of a shadow against the wall, and all he could hear was the heavy clink of the chains as they scraped against the there was silence. The old man very cautiously pulled himself out of his seat, and crept very slowly over towards the cell where his prisoner now lay down on the cold stone floor, facing the wall. He stared at the figure on the ground for a few moments as she lay there silently, but eventually decided that she had not been trying to escape at all, but rather just adjust her position to try and be be a little more comfortable. The old man took a deep breath, a breath that was filled with relief. After watching the girl a few seconds more just to make sure, he turned and went back to his chair. He did not drift off to sleep again this time, though. He just sat there in his chair, letting his eyes roam around the whole chamber, and listening to the commotion that had now begun up above.

—-

The young, dark-haired assistant came running at full speed down the stairs and into the chamber in much the same fashion as before, only he did not bother to stop for air this time and instead rushed straight for the old man in the chair, staring at the young man with a raised eyebrow.

"Sir...I just...we have to..." panted the kid as he struggled to formulate his speech thanks to the giant gulps of air that he was attempting to breathe in.

"Spit it out, boy," said the interrogator, "I don't have time for anything right now. I'm busy, believe it or not."

"B...but... there...was an attack...on the town..."

"WHAT?! But who, and how? Who did this, boy?"

"Not...a who, sir...A what..."

"What? What is a what?"

"A...a... dragon, sir... a big...black..."

"Oh, come now. Really? A dragon?" said the old man, snapping out of his growing sense of fear and into a feeling of great irritation. "That's not even possible. How much have you had to drink , boy?!"

The boy, who had now caught his breath, replied in a defensive tone, "nothing, I swear! But that's what I saw! And now everything is on fire, and there are people dead all over the place, and the rebel prisoners are all over the place. We have to get out of here! Now!"

The old man still didn't believe the story about the dragon, but he was beginning to hear more shouts coming down from above, and figured that there was at least some truth in the boy's fear-filled words. But then the old man looked back towards the cell where the girl was still curled up against the wall, quite asleep by this point.

"Well, unless something physically forces me from this room," the interrogator said with a steadfast but now slightly fearful voice, "I am not leaving here. Not while the prisoner is under my guard."

"Sir, the Thalmor agents are dead!" cried the boy. "If the two I saw up in the town were the ones that brought the prisoner, then they won't be taking her anywhere with come on, we have to get out of here before..."

The boy's warning was cut of by the thunderous voice of a figure that appeared at the edge of the chamber. He was tall, and fairly muscular, with pale skin and fair hair; a Nord by every inch of his appearance. But of particular note were the blue cuirass he wore, signifying him as a rebel soldier, one of those who was supposed to be executed that day, and the iron sword which he brandished in his right hand, ready to fight his way through the room. The interrogator and his assistant starred in horror at the figure in the doorway, and knew that they had a very big problem on their hands.

"N...now, wait a minute," stammered the boy, trying to act with as much courage as he could muster. "Surely we can..."

"Surely we _could_," said the fair haired man in the doorway. "But I have to get through this chamber of yours to get out, so if you two don't mind..."

"Th...there's two of us..." continued the boy.

"Shhhhhh!" quietly hissed the interrogator, "You're mad, boy! You know that?"

"Oh, so there is," replied the man by the doorway. He then looked behind him, and shouted back through the keep, "you coming, or not?"

Another figure soon emerged from behind the blonde man, a figure clad in the same blue armour, and he too carried a sword in his hand, which he now swung loosely back and forth at his side. It was at this point that the young assistant made a sudden run for the corner of the room, behind the counter to where a few old blades were hanging on the wall. He grabbed two and ran back into the chamber with them, but not before he could remember that he had never trained a day in his life for combat, and doubted that the old man had either. And as soon as he saw the horrified and angry expression on the interrogator's old face, he regretted his decision which had now destroyed any hopes at a more peaceful solution. He handed one of the blades to the old man anyway, as the only little hope that they could possibly have was to swing hard with the swords and hope that somehow the cold, sharp blades would find the bodies of the rebel soldiers. The next few minutes seemed like much longer for the interrogator and his assistant. The two men from the doorway ran into the chamber, and began to swing with their blades in the direction of their enemies, narrowly avoiding them both in the beginning as the old man and the boy ducked behind the centre pillar at just the right moment, and they continued to play this dangerous game of cat-and-mouse until two more rebels entered the chamber. These two newcomers entered the room just as the assistant, who had landed a lucky blow on one of his assailant's throats, was struck almost in half by a strong blow from the other. His body fell lifelessly to the cold, stone floor, and a dark crimson puddle began to pool around him. The old man watched helplessly as the boy's body lay there, deathly still on the floor, and then looked out in front of him as the three remaining rebel soldiers stared back at him, each one of them knowing exactly how this situation was going to end. The old man stood rooted to the floor, slowly closing his eyes one final time, as the rebel nearest him walked forward with a grim, an almost apologetic expression on his face, and thrust his blade smoothly into the interrogator's chest. The rebel then pulled back his blade, and the interrogator slid to the floor, landing with a thud next to his fallen assistant. The rebel soldier looked down at the two bodies on the floor, and then turned back to the other two soldiers standing close behind him.

"Come," he said, "let us get out of here. The path across the chamber there should lead out."

"Hold on a minute," replied one of the others. He too was a Nord, blonde and fair skinned, a little shorter, but much the same in appearance as the first soldier. He pointed over at the cell that contained the body of the mage. "There might be something in there worth taking before we leave."

This soldier then looked at the man beside him. This one was the youngest of the three. Still a Nord by his build and appearance, though his hair was much darker and tied loosely back from his face. The younger man followed his companion's gaze to the mage's cell.

"Locked," he said. "I don't have any picks with me, though. Never was too great with those fiddly little things, anyway." He looked back at his companion. "What about you, Ralof?"

"Nope," he replied. "Oh well."

"Well, then," said the first soldier, "if there's nothing of use, let's go."

"Aye," replied Ralof, and together the three soldiers quickly exited through the passage on the opposite side of the chamber from where they had entered. And as they exited the chamber, not one of them noticed the prisoner in the secure cell. Not one of them noticed the prisoner stir from her sleep as they had begun fighting, and not one of them noticed her there as they ran past the cell on their way out.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter II

The sound of clashing blades and metal scraping against stone were loud enough to wake the prisoner in her cell. Her eyes flashed open as the shouts coming from the centre of the room grew louder and more people entered the chamber. She lay there as still as she could for what seemed like an eternity, while the fighting in the room continued. But eventually she heard silence, followed by the unmistakable sound of a sword being thrust through a man's chest, and then the sound of a lifeless body falling down onto the stone floor. She had guessed that the person who had just dropped to the floor had been the interrogator, as in the next few moments, she could hear several men talking with Nordic accents. She was relieved that the fight had not been caused by the return of her captors, but she also figured that these men were most likely rebel soldiers. While she didn't think that they would kill her, she was not on their side, and didn't want to be, and because of this figured that calling for them to let her out of the cell was useless. Besides, her mouth was still gagged, and so even if she managed to get their attention, she couldn't explain to the men why they should let her go. So she just lay there, as still as ever, and waited for the men to eventually leave the room. But as soon as they did, the girl mentally kicked herself for letting go what was most likely going to be her only opportunity to escape. But now that the men were gone, and she was alone, she figured that she could at least turn around to face into the chamber again. She slowly lifted herself up from the floor by leaning against the wall for support and pushing with her legs until she was sitting upright. Then, she swung her legs around in much the same manner as before, and faced herself around to see into the chamber. This time, though, she twisted the chains above her head so that she could sit without her arms folded across her chest as they had been before, when she was originally locked into the cell. Looking out into the centre of the chamber, she saw the three bodies lying there, all bloodied and lifeless. The first body she identified was that of the interrogator, affirming her assumption from before, that he had been the last one to slump to the floor. He was lying almost on top of another body, that which the girl identified as a rebel soldier. So she had been right about that, too. The third body, she could not recognize. From what she could see from her cell, which really wasn't that much, he was much younger than the others, and so she guessed that he was the assistant who the interrogator had mumbled audibly about several times while she had been awake earlier. The girl at there and continued to gaze out at the bodies. She supposed that had she been almost anyone else, she would be feeling sick because of the fairly gruesome scene before her. But even at her young age, she had seen more than her fair share of death. This scene was nothing new to her. Still, she eventually shut her eyes and turned her head away. It certainly wasn't a pleasant thing to be looking at, especially if it was quite likely the last scene that she was ever going to see. With her eyes still closed, she leaned back and rested her head on the wall. It was as cold and damp as ever, but somehow the cool stone felt slightly relaxing against her head. The girl breathed in deeply, and then slowly exhaled, repeating this a few times until a small wisp of her chestnut hair flopped down in front of her face, tickling her nose. She opened her eyes to look at the dangling strands, and tried to blow them away from her face, before she realized that her mouth was still gagged. So instead, she flipped her head to the side to try and move it from her face, but she swished her head just a little too far. The side of her head landed with quite a thud on the wall, causing her to wince in pain. She cursed under her breath as she sunk her throbbing head down to her chest. After a few more moments of agitated mumbling to herself, the girl sat up again, very carefully this time, and rested her head back against the wall. Again, the piece of hair casually dropped down across her face. The girl was about to try another tactic to remove the hair from its position, but then she heard something. She closed her eyes and listened as hard as she could to try and identify the source of the noise. As she listened, she could hear a not so soft thudding sound, a sound she knew to be caused by running footsteps on the stone floor. At first, she thought that for some reason, one of the soldiers from before had retraced his steps and was coming back for something. But as she continued to listen, she realized that the sound was coming from the other end of the chamber, the way that led down from the town above. She opened her eyes now to look out at the corridor, both curiously and anxiously, hoping that the person who was evidently about to round the corner and enter the chamber was not another rebel soldier. She didn't want to be stuck in the cage, but at the same time, she didn't want to ask a rebel for help. She wasn't on their side after all. In another second or two, the cause of the sound entered the chamber in the form of a young soldier, a Nord with brown hair, expectedly fair skin, and a red tunic. The girl looked upon this man with a huge sense of relief. This man was on her side, or at least he should be if his uniform was anything to go by, as the man's red tunic identified him as a member of the Imperial Legion. The girl was not a member of the Legion herself, but she was born and raised in the heart of the Empire, and she was definitely in support of them. So, having decided that this man was perhaps going to be her best chance at escaping from her cell, she decided to get his attention. She could not use her voice to call over to the man, who was now stooped cautiously over the dead bodies on the floor. Instead, the girl twisted her wrists around in the shackles so that her hands could grab the chains. She grabbed each chain as tightly as she could, and with all the strength that she could muster, she yanked as hard as she could on the chains. The heavy metal links rose slightly into the air, but landed with a hard thud on the wall behind, clattering loudly against the stone and each other. The impact of the chains was enough to shake the girl's entire body for a brief moment, but the clattering was also enough to attract the attention of the Imperial soldier. But the clattering didn't attract his attention in quite the way that the girl had hoped. The noise had been so sudden that the soldier had wheeled around in an instant to face the direction of the sound, drawing his steel sword as he did so. He held his blade out in front of him in a ready stance, thinking that there was someone trying to sneak up on him from the other side of the chamber. But there was no one standing there, not that he could see. He stood there staring in the direction of the girl's cell, but from where he was standing, he could not quite see into her cell, and couldn't see that there was in fact someone in there. The girl realized this, and rolled her eyes. She could always shake the chains again, but then she had a better idea. She decided to make herself at least partly visible. As quickly as she could, she wriggled her right foot out of its leather boot. Then, with an awkward outwards kick, she flicked the boot towards the metal cell door. The leather boot landed with a soft thud against the metal bars, and then fell down to lean against the door. The soldier had been staring in the direction of the cell when the boot hit the bars, but as he had not exactly been expecting a shoe to come flying from the shadows, he jumped back slightly in surprise. Then, somewhat regaining his composure, he walked forwards, sword outstretched, in the direction of the mysterious flying boot. _Well, at least he knows I'm here..._ thought the girl. The soldier inched cautiously forwards until he was standing several metres away from the cell door. He peered into the darkness, but he was rather surprised when his eyes rested not on some dangerous looking prisoner as he had expected, but on the body of a girl not much younger than himself. While he didn't know what she could possibly locked up in there for, she certainly didn't _look _dangerous. He lowered his sword to his belt and walked a little closer to the door. The girl in turn looked towards his face with pleading eyes. Their gaze met when the soldier stood within an arm's length of the cage. For a minute, the two of them just stared at each other, until the soldier realized that he was staring rather intently at the prisoner, and he turned away slightly, an embarrassed smile forming on his face. The girl would have giggled were it not for her mouth being tied up. The young soldier turned back to face the girl in the cell. He was about to ask her what she was doing in there, but then he noticed the cloth tied around the girl's mouth.

"Uh...so... you can't exactly tell me why you're in there right now, can you?" he said in a soft, fairly deep Nordic accent.

The girl shook her head in reply. She then looked in the direction of the heavy lock on the cell door.

"And, if I want to know who you are, what you're doing in there, I have to let you out now, don't I?" said the soldier as he too looked towards the lock.

The girl nodded in agreement. Again, she looked up towards the soldier. She figured that since she previously had some sort of success with staring helplessly up at him, if she wanted him to do as she desired, then playing the part of the poor, innocent damsel in distress seemed like a good plan. Plus, she certainly didn't mind staring into his eyes. After all, she had always had something of an attraction towards Nordic men, and this young soldier was definitely no exception.

The soldier could see from the corner of his eye that the girl was staring pleadingly at him again, but he tried his hardest to retain his composure. He was, after all, considering freeing a potentially dangerous criminal from a high security cell. But he gave in to his curiosity, and again found himself looking into the girl's hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to sparkle slightly through the darkness. He shook his head and looked away again. The girl would have burst into laughter at this, had her mouth not been tied shut.

"Right..." said the soldier. He looked at the lock. It was a heavy, metal thing, but he thought that it also looked quite old, and that his sword would be able to smash through it.

"If I let you out of here," he said, "you had better not try and kill me, okay?"

The girl rolled her eyes playfully, and nodded her young soldier unclipped his sword again and lifted it up. He moved so that he was standing in a good position to land a heavy blow on the lock, but just as he was about to slice forcefully downwards with his steel blade, he was interrupted by a frantic mumbling and furious head shaking from the girl.

"What? Don't you want me to let you out?" he said as he stood ready to swing, blade held high above his head.

The girl sighed. She picked up her leg and pointed her shoeless foot towards the sword.

"What about it?" the soldier said when he realized that the prisoner was indicating the blade.

The girl lowered her foot, and tried to think for a moment how she could possibly tell him that the lock was old, but also deceptively strong. Finally, she picked up her foot again, but this time pointed it at the lock.

"Yes. The lock. I was about to smash it..."

The girl shook her head frantically.

"Do you want to get out of there or not?!"

The girl rolled her eyes again. She nodded.

"So, you _do_ want to get out..."

Again, she nodded.

"...But, you don't want me to smash the lock?"

The girl nodded again, very pleased that she was beginning to get her message across.

"Then what do I do? Unless there's a key somewhere, I don't..."

At the mention of a key, the girl nodded frantically again. She picked up her foot once more, but this time she pointed beyond the young soldier, and indicated in the direction of the bodies on the floor.

"They're.. dead, yes, I don't think they can help..." said the soldier, feeling slightly confused.

Had her hands been free, the girl would have buried her face in them. She continued to point with her foot at the pile of bodies. The soldier turned around and studied the dead men.

"What do you... wait... the interrogator?" said the soldier, suddenly coming to a sense of realization. "I suppose if anyone is going to have a key, that would make sense... this is his place, after all..."

The girl sighed with silent relief, and nodded her head in agreement.

"Alright, then..." said the young soldier. He stood up and turned to face the pile of dead bodies that he had been stooping over before. He hadn't seen any keys then, and so he figured that unfortunately, that meant he would have to rifle through a pile of corpses. But on the other hand, he hadn't been searching for anything before, and so he could have easily missed something. After a moment of silent hesitation, wondering again just why he was doing this for a girl he didn't even know, a girl who happened to be locked up in a prison cell, the soldier walked towards the pile of bodies and looked down at it. The bloody mess was enough to make even a fairly experienced soldier's stomach churn slightly, but this was not the first scene like this that he had seen, and he knew that it would definitely not be the last. Carefully, he leant down by the bodies, careful not to kneel in the crimson puddles that had pooled across the stone floor. He stared down at the three forms, all mostly unfamiliar to him. But he could tell that one was a rebel soldier by his uniform. And he knew the old man was the interrogator, as even though they had never met, the soldier had heard the old man mentioned before, described as a grumbly and rather creepy old man. This was all that he needed to know. Luckily for the soldier, the old man was lying somewhat on top of the other two bodies, as he had been the last of them to fall. This meant that much to his relief, he shouldn't have to dig too far into the pile of corpses. The soldier leaned over the body of the interrogator and looked around for any sign of a key. At first glance, he couldn't see anything of use. He decided that he would have to move the body if he was to get a better look. After another moment of quiet hesitation, the soldier put his right hand underneath the old man's cold body, and just as he was about to reach down with his left hand to grab the man's other side, his right hand brushed against something that had a rusty, metallic feel. It felt like a large, heavy, metal loop attached to one of the interrogator's belt loops. The soldier grabbed on to the ring shaped object and pulled it carefully out from under the interrogator. To his surprise, and again to his relief, it was a large metal hoop that held several keys. Most of them were small, but one large brass key looked about the right size for the lock on the girl's cell. The soldier managed to unhook the ring from the old man's belt loop, as the loop had a simple clip mechanism at the top which allowed it to be unhinged quite easily. Taking the keys, the young soldier stood up, brushed his hands on the bottom of his tunic, and walked back over to the girl in the cell. When she saw the loop of keys in his hand, the girl was quite overjoyed and didn't bother to hide this feeling. She nodded her head happily as the soldier held out the keys towards her and asked if one of them was the one that would free her from her cell.

"Alright then," said the soldier. "Let me see..."

He fumbled around with the keys a little, but again arrived at the conclusion that the large key looked like the one that would fit in the cell's lock. He place the large key into the lock and turned it slowly until he heard the familiar click of a lock mechanism opening. He smiled as he removed the key, and then proceeded to open the door. He stepped inside and knelt down on the girl's left, and gently removed the gag from her mouth.

"Better?" he said with a smile as the girl opened her mouth and took a couple of very deep breaths.

"Much better," the girl replied after a moment. As she continued to breathe deeply for a little while longer, the soldier began to study the much smaller locks that secured the shackles around the girl's wrists.

"You wouldn't happen to know which one of these keys unlocks those shackles, would you?" he asked.

The girl looked at the keys which the soldier held out for her to see. She hadn't really been paying that much attention when she was locked up before, and so wasn't able to identify which of the small, brassy keys was the right one.

"No, sorry," said the girl. "I didn't really get a good look when I was being shoved in here. You'll just have to try them all until one of them fits."

"Alright then," replied the soldier. "There aren't too many of them, though, so it shouldn't take long."

As the soldier stared curiously at the locks, then at the keys, and then back at the locks to figure out which key would do the trick, the girl looked awkwardly over her left shoulder and into the young man's face for a moment before quickly turning her head around to the other side, realizing that her face must have been turning quite a nice shade of red. After a few moments, and a few attempts with different keys, the soldier managed to slide the right key into the lock of the shackle around the girl's left wrist. He turned it until again they could hear the unmistakable sound of an opening lock. The lock gave way and the shackle opened, freeing up the girl's right arm. Then, the soldier quickly went around to the other side and unlocked the other shackle. The girl's right wrist slid out from the metal constraint, and for a moment she sat there and caressed away the slight tingling that she had begun to feel in her hands, as she only now realized that they had been suspended above her head for a few hours now. As she continued to massage her palms, the young soldier stood up beside her and walked around in front to face her. The girl grabbed for her boot which was still lying roughly where it had fallen earlier, and she pulled it onto her bare foot. As she did so, the girl looked up into the soldier's face and smiled shyly.

"Thank you," she said earnestly.

The soldier began to smile a little, and then he extended his hands towards the girl. She reached up and put her hands in his, and he then pulled her to her feet.

"I've seen enough people in pain today. More than enough death, that's for sure," said the soldier. "I figured that if I could save a life, or at least help someone get back to living theirs, well... even if you were locked away in a prison cell."

The girl laughed.

"Well, thanks," the girl replied as she began to stretch. "Not many people would do what you just did. Probably for good reason, in most cases, but you know..."

"I guess so, but you don't look so dangerous, so I figured...what?"

The soldier stopped mid-sentence when he saw the amused look that had spread across the girl's face.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "I get that a lot, that's all."

"Oh. Alright... Well... I suppose we'd better get out of here, huh?"

"Good idea. But before we go, I'll just have a quick look around. There's probably some useful stuff around in here..."

"Sure."

The girl stood there and scoped out the room a little. As she walked slowly over to look at the pile of bodies on the floor, the soldier stared after her.

" My name's Hadvar, by the way," said the soldier.

The girl turned back to face him.

"Riviere," she replied, before going back to looking around the room for anything of use.

The next few minutes were nearly silent as Hadvar stood somewhat impatiently by the passageway that seemed to lead further into the keep, and hopefully outside. Riviere walked around the chamber during this time, looking for anything of use, or even better, anything of value. She decided not to rifle through the pockets of the dead men on the floor as she was trying to be as quick as possible. She did, however, reach down and pick up one of the swords that was lying amidst the bodies. The blade was covered in a thick layer of blood, so Riviere looked around the room for a piece of fabric or something else to clean it up a little with. Her eyes scanned the room carefully, and eventually rested on a small tattered piece of once-white material lying beneath the chair that had earlier belonged to the old interrogator. She walked over and bent down to pick up the cloth, and in doing so, her eyes rested on the table next to the chair. She first noticed the small dagger sitting in the centre of the wooden surface. She generally preferred small, light blades, so this was more to her liking than the heavy steel blade. She picked it up and inserted it into a belt loop of her olive green, slightly loose-fitting trousers, and then placed the sword on the chair. She then looked at the book that was also on the table, but made no gesture to remove it from the table. The final item that Riviere took note of was the small leather pouch that was resting on the wooden surface. She picked it up and weighed it in her hands, realizing that it was much heavier than she had thought it would be. She undid the little clasp on the front of the pouch and looked curiously inside. Her eyes widened as her gaze was met with the sparkling glow of several brilliant diamonds. A smirk shaped her lips as she closed the pouch again and stuffed it into a pocket on the left side of her trousers. She then stood up, and brushed her hands on her dirty white blouse.

"Ah, I don't mean to complain or anything," started Hadvar as he looked over at Riviere, "but we should probably get going soon."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm almost done," replied Riviere as she walked back towards her companion, but stopped in front of the cell that held the body of the mage. Something was glistening slightly beneath the collar of his robe. Something gold.

Hadvar watched her kneel down in front of the door.

"Hey, if you see something there that will help us, I think I might have a lockpick or two somewhere. I got locked out of places a few times when I was younger, and even though I never really learned how to do it, I still..."

"No need," said Riviere. "But thanks anyway."

She reached behind her head, and grasped with each hand a pin that had been holding the majority of her hair back from her face. Each pin's top was ornamented simply with a few reddish stones arranged in the shape of a small rose. As she pulled the pins away from the top of her head, her chestnut hair cascaded down over her shoulders. After shaking the her hair out a little so that it all flopped onto her back, Riviere looked at the lock which adorned the door of the mage's cell. The cell was much smaller than the one she had been in, and the lock was much simpler. This was going to be easy. She took the pins in her hand, and rotated them so that she was holding them by the roses, and so that the thin, pointy ends were pointed towards the lock. She placed the end of one pin in the lock, and then the other one in beside it. With one hand, she maneuvered a pin in the lock until she could feel it was in the right position, and then rotated the lock itself with the other pin. The lock clicked open with ease. Riviere smiled to herself and opened the door. She reached inside and quickly pulled a small amulet on a golden chain from around the dead mage's neck. She stuffed it into the same pocket where the pouch of diamonds now rested, the stood up and ran over to join Hadvar by the passageway. He looked at her curiously. He had been getting impatient waiting for her to finish, but after watching her pick the cell lock with so much ease, his sense of curiosity had overcome the bored, annoyed feeling that had begun to arise.

"Ready?" Hadvar questioned.

"Ready."

"Good. Let's get out of here."

The two of them then walked briskly off through the cold, dark passageways, searching for the way out.

After walking further into the passageways beneath the keep for a few minutes, a delayed sense of shock hit Riviere, as she realized that she still had no idea what was going on.

"Uh, Hadvar. Quick question… What exactly have I missed… exactly? I take it something pretty major happened, what with all the running and shouting and fighting and such…"

"Oh, I thought you'd heard… I mean how could you not, really."

"Semi-unconsciousness does wonderful things to a girl's perception."

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. Well… what didn't you miss."

The two of them stopped for a moment, and Hadvar explained the situation.

"It was all very exciting and confusing," he continued, "but you figured that out. And I guess you also saw that several of the rebels escaped. Wait, you know about the execution, yes?"

Riviere nodded in affirmation. "Here's what I do know, before you go on, so you can see how much I actually missed. I know about the rebels, and I heard something about a lot of people dead in the town, and fire. Oh, and I heard this really strange sound, somewhat like a rumbling shout, but I couldn't hear what it said, if it did actually say anything. But it sounded almost like the language of the _dovah_ but that's impossible, so…"

"Dragon," Hadvar said.

"Yes, language of the dragons, that's what I said. But again, impossible, so I must have…"

"No! Dragon! There _was_ a dragon! Not joking either. I didn't think it was possible, but apparently it disagrees."

Riviere looked questioningly at her companion. Normally she would have immediately dismissed this claim as the ramblings of a madman or a drunkard, but as far as Riviere could tell, Hadvar was definitely neither.

"So, you mean to tell me that there was… a dragon… a fire breathing dragon… and it just destroyed the town?"

Hadvar nodded. Riviere smoothed a hand through her hair as she thought about this for a moment. This was hardly believable, yet the more she thought about the things that she had heard before, the terrified shouts and the pain filled wails from the town above, the more this idea made sense.

"Huh. Very interesting," she said with a pensive look on her face. "Who'd have thought. Well, come on, my friend. We'd best continue on our way."

"Wait, that's it? That's all you have to say? Interesting!?" said Hadvar, unable to believe Riviere's strange remark.

"Come on," Riviere motioned as she walked forward, continuing on through the keep.

Hadvar just stared disbelievingly after her. _Just who have I released from that cell? _he thought to himself as he walked cautiously after Riviere, who had begun to quicken her pace along the stone pathways. They passed through another chamber that looked like a small annex for the interrogation room with a few cages, some empty, some filled with old bones and scraps of fabric. Beyond this small room, down the corridor, Riviere noticed the pathway curved off to the left. At first she assumed it was another chamber, but as she walked slowly towards the end of the corridor, a cool breeze washed over her. She stopped suddenly, about three quarters of the way down, and crouched down against the wall, leaning her head against the cold stone wall. Hadvar stopped and crouched down beside her in much the same fashion, though he didn't know what his curious companion was doing.

"What is it?" he whispered in Riviere's ear.

"Shhhhh!" she hissed as she placed a hand over his mouth and continued to crouch, remaining absolutely still.

She turned to face Hadvar, and pointed to her ear, before mouthing for her companion to listen. Hadvar nodded and followed Riviere's actions. As they crouched together by the wall, Hadvar began to hear what had stopped his companion in her tracks. Voices were emanating softly from ahead. They were unfamiliar, but as they continued to listen, they could both begin to understand some of the conversation.

"We're not lost," said one. "We just need to go through there."

"No, we don't. We just came from there!" hissed another.

"Yes, we do!" countered a third. "We go back that way again, and find another way out. There has to be another way that doesn't involve going back up to the town."

Riviere listened in complete silence for a few more seconds, and then carefully stood up in her position. She put a finger to her lips as she faced Hadvar again, and motioned for him to follow her swiftly and silently back to that small annex chamber that they had come through before.

Slowly, the two crept back to the annex. Once there, Riviere sighed deeply as she rubbed her forehead pensively.

"Those people in there," began Hadvar, still whispering.

"Rebels, I think," replied Riviere. "All Nords, and I'm pretty sure that I heard one mutter something like _at least we still have our heads on our shoulders…_ And you can stop whispering here. They are far enough away."

"Alright then. What should we do?" Hadvar continued. "It sounded like quite a few of them were out there. I could try and negotiate with them to let us through, or I could try and fight them. Whatever has the highest chance for survival, I suppose."

Riviere smiled, realizing that her companion was assuming she was just some girl who managed to get locked up in a cage. A scared, young girl who had never fought a day in her life. Riviere smiled, as her companion couldn't be more wrong about her if he tried.

"How about neither of those options for now," Riviere said. "How about I try and sneak up to the end of the corridor and take a look at what we are facing?"

"Uh, wait. Are you sure? You might…"

"Be seen? Get hurt? Get my blouse torn or my hair messed up? Trust me, Hadvar, I'll be perfectly fine. Plus, I'm smaller, lighter on my feet, and not wearing an Imperial uniform. If I am spotted, they shouldn't be too quick to pick me as an enemy."

"Well, if you're sure…" said Hadvar, a slight tone of worry in his voice. "Just be careful, alright?"

Riviere smiled mischievously. "I promise, I'll try not to die."

And with that, Riviere turned to face down the corridor again, and padded her way almost silently along the pathway. Hadvar watched her, and was interested by the way that she was walking; not quite crouching, but hunched down, walking closely against the wall, stepping quite silently along the cold, hard floor stones.

Keeping close to the wall, Riviere continued silently yet surprisingly swiftly down the corridor, stepping very carefully and very lightly to avoid shuffling her feet. She made every effort to remain out of sight and earshot, but the men in the room ahead were still arguing loudly, and didn't ever seem to look towards the corridor making it easy for Riviere to remain unseen. When she had reached the end of the corridor, Riviere remained hidden by the wall. She pushed her back against the wall, steadied her slightly nervous breathing, and then carefully peered around the bend. Her gaze was greeted with the sight of a large, dark chamber that looked to be the beginning of a cave network that spiraled out from beneath the keep. The air was cold and damp, a sensation that was attributed to a gently tumbling waterfall cascading down the rock wall to Riviere's left. The chamber was roughly circular in shape, with a large pit in the centre that was connected to the upper platform circling around it by a small set of well weathered stone steps. It was at the top of these steps that Riviere caught a glimpse of the group of men, still arguing away. Riviere studied and listened to them intently for some time. There were three men standing in a small huddle, two tall and strongly built, the third slightly shorter and stockier. The shorter of the three held in his left hand a gently flickering torch, its flame illuminating the huddle enough for Riviere to identify the men as she had guessed before; Nord Rebels, all wearing the blue tunics of the Stormcloak soldiers. The dancing flame illuminated the scene enough for Riviere to make out a few more details from her distance, revealing that the stocky one had short-cropped, dark hair and a , whereas the two taller ones were both wearing helmets that completely covered their heads and short one stood there relatively quietly now while the other two continued to argue heatedly, gesturing wildly at each other. At first, Riviere had thought that maybe these were the men who had come through the interrogation chamber earlier, but now she was unsure. The argument had begun to subside, and the voices were getting hard to hear, but as far as she could tell, none of their voices were familiar. They were Nords, same as before, but to her ears it sounded as though the men in this group were all much younger than those who Riviere had heard earlier, as their voices sounded less deep, less calm, and much more confused. Riviere looked on at the group for a little while longer, but finally to the conclusion that even though they weren't exactly yelling at each other anymore, they weren't about to move on any time soon. Riviere moved back into the corridor and sighed. She sat down against the wall and tried to think. She figured that her waiting companion was getting rather impatient, and so figured that she needed to figure something out as soon as possible. Riviere peeked into the chamber again and looked back over to the soldiers. The torchlight had begun to die down a little, and Riviere had to squint a little to see if there was anything more she could gather about the group. There were three of them, and one of her. If she had to fight them, she thought, she could probably handle it. She had survived quite a few scuffles in her time, after all. Besides, she did have someone to call for help if she needed to. But as she continued to squint in the direction of the Rebels, she figured that if they were as young as they appeared, there was a good chance that they were fairly inexperienced in combat. So she had an advantage there. But then she noticed that all three were armed with either a longbow, a sword, or both in the case of the short one. Riviere took a deep breath, and then began to frown._ If only I had my own bow, _she thought to herself, as she reached down and touched the small dagger attached to her belt, the only weapon besides her own body that she had with her. _Though…If I'm quiet enough_, she thought, _I might be able to sneak in there unseen. _It was quite a risky idea, but at least it seemed better than just charging into the chamber. Riviere studied the outer edges of the chamber a little more. The stone walls were incrementally lined with small, iron sconces that had most likely once burned with a fiery glow, though they now sat there smouldering gently, producing an amount of light that brightened little more than the insides of their metal holders. For Riviere, this was a good sign. This incredibly dim lighting meant that for the most part, the chamber was very dark around the outer edges, and if she stuck close to the walls, Riviere could walk quietly around and get closer to the men on the other side of the chamber. Riviere looked over to the left side of the chamber once more, towards the bubbling waterfall. A pair of small stone bridges ran across two valleys in the floor where the water ran down the wall and into the chamber. They appeared to be covered in a light layer of water-spray from the cascade, so Riviere judged that if she was to move that far, she would have to be careful to avoid sliding across the floor. But aside from that, it looked easy enough for her to sneak in. It was certainly dark enough, which had been Riviere's main concern. As long as she could keep her footing, she should be able to get close enough to the men to try and wonder whether or not they had a plan, and to make a plan of her own.

Riviere took another deep breath, and closed her eyes. She bent down, crouching beside the wall like a large catlike creature, ready to leap into the chamber.

"_Shadow hide me," _she whispered to herself. In one quick movement, Riviere extended her right leg behind her body, still crouching with her hands on the ground in front, and pushed forcefully off the ground, propelling herself into an elegant lunge that landed her almost silently on the floor at the chamber's outer edge. Her movement hadn't even slightly attracted any attention from the men across the room. She smiled to herself as she pulled herself into a more upright position. She had been practising that jump for quite some time now, and was very pleased that she had managed to pull it off. Riviere now stood about two or three metres away from the waterfall in the left corner of the chamber, and a slightly shorter distance from the first of the two bridges. Riviere relaxed herself into the same stance she had taken when she had wandered down the corridor not much earlier before, and after hesitating for a few seconds, began to walk her way slowly across the first bridge. The stone was a little slippery beneath her feet, and every time she put her foot down, her heart would beat a little faster as she dreaded the possibility that her feet were about to fly out from underneath her body. But after she had padded her way across the first bridge, she stopped. Not because she had made herself too nervous to continue, but because she had spied something. She had walked into a position where she could now clearly see the ground beneath the group of soldiers, and noticed something that she had not before. She had thought that the ground seemed to be reflecting the light from the torch back up at the trio of soldiers in an odd manner before, but had just assumed that the ground was covered in water, as there was a waterfall in the chamber after all. But now, Riviere could see that the ground's reflection wasn't just reflecting the light, but it was lightly glowing, a myriad of colours dancing gently beneath the feet of the soldiers. That was definitely not water, Riviere realised. It was oil.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It had been little over ten minutes, but to Hadvar, it seemed as though his mysterious companion had been gone for hours. He had watched her wander silently down the passageway. He had watched her sit there at the far end of the stone corridor, listening intently to the conversation in the next chamber. And he had watched as Riviere had leapt around the corner and into the chamber, disappearing from sight. Hadvar was worried now, but Riviere had told him to stay where he was. He hadn't heard anything coming from the chamber, certainly no hint of his companion being in trouble. Still, he couldn't help but feel as though he should be helping the girl, and not letting her wander off into danger like that. So he remained where he was, and continued to mentally scold his decision until he was startled by a flash of light from the chamber ahead, followed by a series of loud, pained screams. Hadvar now made no hesitation to jump to his feet, grab his sword, and then run as fast as he could down the corridor and into the room ahead. As he rounded the corner, Riviere had been doing the same, which resulted in her landing with a not so soft thump against his chest, almost sending the two falling less than gracefully to the floor. But Hadvar managed to steady himself, allowing for him to catch Riviere against him.

"Uh, sorry," Riviere said sheepishly as she stood herself up properly. "I was just about to come and get you. I cleared us a path."

Hadvar now looked around the chamber. To his surprise, there was nobody standing there besides himself and Riviere.

"I heard shouting, and saw a strange light, then came running," he said as he looked into the chamber, looking for an explanation. "Uh, what did you do exactly?"

"Well, it wasn't really my ingenuity, but rather their stupidity," began Riviere as she turned around and walked through the chamber, towards the exit on the opposite side. "Come on, we'd better get going before we run into any more trouble. I'll tell you along the way."

Hadvar followed Riviere over the two bridges as she continued to talk.

"There were three of them, all rebels, standing over here, by the steps. They appeared to be lost, and that is why they were arguing. After a while, I got tired of listening through the wall, so I went in there to see if I could make out anything more useful, but I didn't, really. Long story short, though, they were standing in a very bad position."

Riviere stopped momentarily in the place where the rebels had been standing earlier, a patch of floor that was now slightly charred. She pointed at the floor and continued her explanation.

"They were standing here, and one of them was holding a torch. Now, there was nothing wrong with that until I stepped a little closer, and saw that the idiots were standing in a patch of oil. Flame. Oil. I guess you can tell what happened next."

"The one with the torch dropped it? Just like that? And they never noticed anything?" questioned Hadvar. "I figured that they weren't exactly scholars. Still..."

"Well, he didn't just drop it by himself," said Riviere as she turned back towards the direction they wanted to be heading in. "I helped him do that."

"Really? And just how did you manage that?"

"Well, another long story short, I know quite a few little tricks that can be very useful in a variety of situations. On this occasion, it was my knowledge of how to throw a dagger. Took a lot of practice to be able to do, but I was able to throw the one I picked up earlier and hit torch-rebel, yes, I'll call him that from now on. Threw it as best I could and managed to hit his arm that was holding the torch, causing him to drop it into the oil, igniting the three of them and so on, which resulted in their running off in this direction, which is funny considering there was a waterfall in the chamber. I don't know, really."

"Right..." was all Hadvar could manage to say at this point. "Remind me not to displease you in any manner. Uh...I should probably take back that thing I said earlier about you not being dangerous?"

"That might be a good idea," smiled Riviere as they continued to wander through what had now become a twisting network of natural caves.

"And, dare I ask," continued Hadvar, a nervous smile appearing on his lips, "should I be regretting letting you out of that cell?"

Rivere stopped and turned around, a frown of disapproval on her face. But before long, the frown dissolved into a smile, and that smile gave way to laughter. While still laughing, Riviere continued on her way with Hadvar now following slightly further behind.

"I can assure you, Hadvar, you're not in any danger of me trying to kill you. Trust me. In case you haven't noticed, I am unarmed. Although, I could still easily take you on in hand to hand combat. But I won't, because I am far more exhausted than I look. Plus I like you. And I don't tend to fight, let alone kill, people that I like."

"That's... comforting..."

Again, Riviere laughed. "Relax, will you?" she said. "I'm joking. Now let's get moving, because I am getting very tired, very quickly, and it's a long way for me to go to get back home once we get out of this damn cave."

"...You sure you're joking?"

"Does it matter right now?"

"No. Not really, I suppose..."

They walked on through the caves, eventually coming to a large chamber covered in a layer of the a white, threadlike tangles characteristic of the webs spun by the giant frostbite spiders. The spiders were there too, but to the relief of the two companions, they had already been taken care of. Hadvar and Riviere passed amidst the dead, unsettlingly grotesque forms of the spiders that littered the floor of the cavern, until they passed through an opening on the opposite side.

"Bleh," said Riviere with a shiver. "Never liked those things. But at least there aren't snakes. Those vile creatures, I cannot stand."

Hadvar smiled. Despite everything Riviere had said about being far more dangerous than she looked, there was just something about her that seemed to contradict that. She was by all appearances, a normal young lady. Plus she didn't like spiders, and was beginning to whine about being tired. So maybe she had been joking. Maybe she was just a normal girl who had managed to get mixed up with the wrong people, in something bigger than she could handle.

As they walked on, they found themselves in a larger, more elongated cavern. The air was cool and moist due to a stream of water running through the centre, most likely a stream that had originated in the waterfall chamber. The two companions crossed over to the left side of the cavern and walked along a small path that lined the wall. Suddenly, Riviere stopped in her tracks. She crouched down beside a large rock and turned to Hadvar, holding a finger up to her lips, signalling him to be quiet. He acknowledged this gesture and followed suit, crouching down behind Riviere.

"Over there," whispered Riviere as she pointed directly ahead of them. On the ground on the same side of the stream as them, a motionless form lay on the cold, dusty ground. "I think that's one of the rebels from before. He doesn't look so good..."

"Well, dead people don't usually look great," Hadvar whispered back.

Riviere turned back to Hadvar, giving him the same look of disapproval as she had shown before. "Yes, thank you for that. I'd hit you, but we're trying to be quiet, are we not?"

"Sorry," Hadvar grinned.

"And of course he's dead, silly. What I meant was something looks wrong. I don't know what though. Know what, you stay here. I'll be..."

"No. You are the one staying here. You went on a little adventure before, and now it's my turn. Don't worry, I'll try not to be seen, get hurt, or my tunic torn. Plus I'm the one with the sword."

Riviere sighed. "Oh, you're just hilarious, aren't you... Fine. Go have fun staring at a dead guy. I'll be waiting here..."

Hadvar stood as quietly as he could, readied his sword, and then walked forwards to reach the body which was not more than a dozen metres away from where they had been hiding. When he reached the body, he first noted the fact that he was indeed a rebel soldier. The body was lying on its back, in a pile of crimson dust. The dead soldier's chest was torn and bloodied, as were his arms and face. Then, Hadvar decided that the rebel smelt oddly of burnt leather and seared flesh. How delightful... he thought to himself. Finally, he saw that the rebel was lying on top of a small wooden longbow, and a half-full quiver. He carefully picked the weapons up and held them under his left arm. Hadvar stood up and was about to call to Riviere and tell her to come over, but then stopped. A faint shuffling sound had just come from the opposite side of the cavern. Carefully, Hadvar turned around to try and identify the source of the sound. The sight that greeted his eyes froze him in his place for a few moments, before he began to walk backwards, very quietly and very carefully, to where Riviere was still waiting. As soon as he was beside Riviere, he dropped down into a crouch.

"Bear," whispered Hadvar. "There is a large bear. Other side of the stream."

Riviere carefully pulled herself up against the rock and looked out to where Hadvar had seen the creature. Sure enough, a large brown furred bear lay on the ground just across the water from where they were seated. "Great. Just great," whispered Riviere.

"We could try and sneak around it," Hadvar said.

"Hmmm. Possibly. But she looks restless. She hasn't noticed us yet, so we're safe here for now. But if we get much closer than you did, she'll most likely notice."

"She?"

"Oh, I don't know. She. He. It. Does it matter?"

"Not really..."

"So that won't work. But if I'm not delusional, you picked up a bow and arrows, did you not?"

Hadvar handed the weapons to Riviere. "I don't think there are many arrows there. But if you're a better shot than I am, you might be able to make do."

Riviere took the bow from Hadvar and turned it over in her hands. The weapon was rather small, about the length of her extended arm. The wood was old and beginning to chip along the edges, but it still felt sturdy enough to fire a few shots. Next, Riviere inspected the quiver. There were four iron tipped arrows, all beginning to fall apart in much the same manner as the bow. The thin wooden shafts were splintering from the metal heads all the way to the faded red fins at the other end. They were not in particularly good condition, but again Riviere thought that they should be able to survive for one last fight. After inspecting the arrows for a few moments longer, Riviere placed them on the ground along with the bow before turning around and pulling herself up to look over the rock and assess the situation further. The bear was large, though not abnormally so for its kind. It was curled up on the ground, breathing slowly, and thus appearing quite asleep. Riviere reached down and picked up the bow and arrows and positioned herself to walk carefully out from behind the rock. But as she did so, the bear shifted rather violently onto its side, eliciting an under the breath utterance of profanity from Riviere as she ducked back behind the rock. After a few seconds of catching her breath, Riviere peeked out at the bear again. It was now facing towards the two companions huddled behind the rock, but Riviere could not tell whether or not its eyes were open. It was lying still again, but now Riviere was unsure whether or not this creature was awake or merely a restless sleeper. Either way, though, the bear was in the way and had to be dealt with. Had she been alone, Riviere would probably have crept past the bear by now. But Riviere had a companion who she guessed hadn't trained himself in stealth such as she had, so she decided it would be too dangerous to attempt sneaking past the bear. The only option left now was to keep ahead with the idea she had already been working on, and that was to use the bow she was holding in her left hand and the three arrows in the quiver that was now slung gently over her right shoulder.

"Stay here. Don't make a sound. Don't come running. Whatever happens, do not move until I tell you," whispered Riviere to Hadvar. "Got it?"

"I… yes. Alright," he replied hesitantly.

"Good," said Riviere as she began to stand.

"Be careful."

Riviere stepped out carefully again in much the same manner as she had moments earlier, only this time she stood still for a few seconds to see if the bear moved again. To her relief, the creature remained motionless this time. Its soft, brown fur rustled gently as a slight breeze wound through the cavern, but its body did not move again as Riviere took several cautious steps closer, until she was standing right by the stream in the centre. Riviere stood very still and stared intently at the bear as she pulled one of the arrows from the quiver and readied her aim with the bow in the direction of the bear. Her stance was strangely elegant and incredibly natural as she prepared herself to take the shot. She steadied herself, took a deep breath, and then released the arrow. It flew through the air on a graceful journey that ended when the thin wooden shaft buried itself in the centre of the bear's chest. It would have been a perfect shot, as it was right on target, only Riviere soon wished she had picked the bear's head as a target. She swore under her breath again as she regretted her decision and began to ready another arrow. The bear lurched awake as it registered the searing pain before looking directly in the direction from whence the arrow had flown. It reared up to stand on its hind legs and readied itself to charge at Riviere. But before it could get any closer, Riviere had fired another arrow, this time landing it right between the enraged creature's eyes. The large animal fell to the ground with a hard thump as Riviere sighed with relief. She turned back to Hadvar and would have motioned for him to come over, except that he was already running towards her.

"I thought I said…"

"That thing was about to charge! I wasn't about to let it do that, not that you needed any help as I can now see…"

Riviere smiled. "I didn't really think you would stay there if something went wrong. Not that it went horribly wrong, though. But I'll admit, it has been a while since I've shot something that big. And by a while, I mean I have never actually shot anything that big. I do not want to do that again."

"Well, nice job. And the way is clear now, which is good… so, uh, we can get moving. Shall we?"

"By the Nine, yes. Let's get out of this place. I am so very done with caves. Very, very done."

Riviere looked at the bow in her hand once more before tossing it on the ground along with the remaining arrows. Together, the two companions walked swiftly past the bear and through the cavern's archway that led closer and closer to the sunlit world above.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Riviere ran from the darkness as fast as her tiring legs could carry her as she raced to stand in the invitingly warm sunshine. The cave had exited to a dirt pathway that begun to wind through a forest of pines, eventually leading down a hillside towards a rushing river below. Though not normally the dramatic or outgoing type, Riviere was about ready to sing joyfully as loud as she possibly could. But just as she opened her mouth to do so, a deep and unsettling shriek rumbled through the sky. Hadvar, who had been walking just behind Riviere, grabbed his partner by the arm and dragged her over to the side of the path where there was a large rock with a slight overhang at the top. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her down to sit against the base of the rock, and then motioned her to be absolutely still. Another bellow echoed through the air, this time closer, before a huge shadow darkened the earth as something flew above the two companions huddling beneath the rock, eventually seeming to stop right above them. Hadvar, his arm still around Riviere's shoulder, instinctively tightened his grip a little as he drew her in closer. The two companions could hear a strange breathing sound accompanied by what sounded like the flapping of a very large pair of wings. The shadow seemed to hover above their hiding place for a very long time, but eventually it appeared to lift itself higher into the air before flying away to the north.

"I think it's gone now," said Riviere, whose head was now resting gently against Hadvar's chest which was pounding quite heavily now.

"Yes, I think so," he sighed, trying to calm himself down. After a few moments, he looked down at Riviere and realised that he was still holding her quite tightly against his chest. "Oh, uh… sorry…" he stuttered slightly as he began to release his arm. "I suppose you, uh, want me to let go now…"

"Well, if _you _want to let go, that's fine," said Riviere as she pulled herself up to sit with her back straight against the rock that were sitting beneath. "I mean, I don't mind…"

Riviere peered out from under the rock and looked up into the sky. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary, but as she turned to look back in the direction that they had come from, she could see several dark plumes of smoke rising into the air.

"I guess that was the dragon you saw before," Riviere figured as she continued to stare towards the black clouds spiralling into the sky.

"Yes," Hadvar concluded. "It came out of nowhere and, well, destroyed everything. The town, Helgen, is gone, as I guess you can see. That smoke is the town burning. Well, what's left of it…"

Riviere turned around to look down the hillside and through the forest of pines, listening to the faint rushing of the water below. "The dragon looked like it was headed that way," she said as she motioned in the direction that she thought it had flown away in.

"That's roughly north," Hadvar said as he followed her gaze. "Whiterun is in that direction, but so is Riverwood. I have family there, and I think I had better warn them. I doubt a dragon would really want to attack Riverwood, but still..."

"Well, then I guess you ought to be going, then. I have a long way to go, so I had probably best be off as well," said Riviere.

"Wait, why don't you come to Riverwood with me?" Hadvar asked. "It's just along the river."

"Well, if there's a place where I can get something to eat or drink that might be nice. And if there's a horse I can borrow, that would make getting home much easier…"

"I don't know about a horse. It might be worth making the trip to Whiterun for that. But Riverwood is on the way there, and we can definitely find food there. If my aunt and uncle are home, and they should be, they should have something. Or else there is the inn across the road."

"Alright then. Since Riverwood is on the way, I might as well stop for a bit. And then I can head on to Whiterun to find a way to get back home. But don't let me stop for too long, though. My…" Riviere hesitated, "my colleagues are probably wondering where the hell I am. I doubt they are going to be too pleased at my absence… Not that it was my fault or anything but, well… I'll have a lot of explaining to do."

To the relief of the wearying Riviere, the walk into town was short. It was just over a quarter of an hour later that Riviere and Hadvar made their way through the gates, and onto the small central road that divided the town of Riverwood in half. The town was relatively quiet that day. As Riviere followed Hadvar down the road, they passed a small house and a general store on the right before stopping in front of another dwelling on the left that backed onto the rumbling waters of the White River. A man was busily attending a forge that was located on the left side of the home. He was middle aged, with dark golden hair and a beard to match. He had the strong build of a Nord, and as Riviere looked closer at the man, she thought she could detect something of a family resemblance between the blacksmith and her companion.

"Uncle Alvor! Hello!" called Hadvar.

"Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave or what?" questioned the man as he stood up from beside the forge and began to walk towards Hadvar and Riviere. As the man neared the two people, however, a look of worry began to spread across his face."Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? We heard that something had happened, but had no idea you were involved. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Uncle, really," Hadvar assured the man. "But we should go inside to talk. I can tell you everything that happened."

"Um, alright," said Alvor. "But who's this?" Alvor motioned towards Riviere, who had been trailing quietly behind Hadvar since they had arrived.

"She's a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

By the time she and Hadvar had taken a little time to relax, explained about Helgen to his uncle and had something to eat, night was descending and though she needed to return home as fast as she could, Riviere decided that it was best not to wander the wilds in the dark. After bidding farewell, she wandered across the road to a small inn where she spent the night in welcome comfort. On a normal night, the bed may not have seemed all that comfortable. But after attempting to sleep on the cold, damp floor of a prison cell, the thin straw mattress was almost luxurious. Riviere awakened just after sunrise the following morning, and after a small breakfast of an apple, a sweetroll and half a bottle of mead, she left on her way to Whiterun.

* * *

Not more than half an hour later, the young Imperial had traversed the hillside that sat between the river town and the city. But instead of walking up the stone road into Whiterun itself, Riviere stopped at a small building just outside the walls, a little place she knew to be the local stables. She walked past the small building, past the stable where several horses stood restlessly, to a wooden carriage waiting by the side of the road.

"Bjorlam!" called Riviere with a smile and a wave as she wandered towards the horse-drawn cart .

From the driver's seat of the carriage, a blonde Nord turned around and returned the girl's wave. "I haven't seen you in quite some time, miss. I was wondering where you had gotten to."

"Ah, yes. Sorry about that. I was actually on my way here a few days ago when I got… side-tracked." Riviere decided it was best not to tell the driver about her adventures of the last few days.

"Did you hear about what happened at Helgen?" Bjorlam continued. "I never believed that the dragons even existed!"

The left corner or Riviere's mouth curled upwards in a half smile. "I heard something like that, yes."

"I hope it doesn't head in this direction, but apparently it disappeared somewhere near Riverwood. A young man came through here yesterday to ask that the Jarl send some men down there to make sure the town is safe."

Riviere's eyes widened, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "This young man, was he a Nord, light brown hair, a bit taller than me? Imperial uniform, perhaps?"

"He was a Nord yes, but his hair was quite dark. He was also quite tall yes, but he definitely wasn't an Imperial."

"Oh yeah? How did you figure that?"

"I heard some people talking later, after he had left Whiterun. They said that according to some of the palace guards, he had been at Helgen himself. As a rebel prisoner…"

"Interesting…" mused Riviere. "You wouldn't happen to have caught his name, by any chance?"

"No, sorry…"

"Thanks anyway."

"Well I suppose you'll be wanting a ride?" Bjorlam asked.

"Uh, yes. If you wouldn't mind." Riviere was barely paying attention at this point, her mind lost in thought.

"And I guess you want a ride home?"

"Huh?" Riviere looked questioningly at the driver.

"A ride home? To Riften?" Bjorlam raised his eyebrow at the girl's apparent misunderstanding.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Of course," replied Riviere as she shook her head. "What was I thinking? Or… not thinking." She chuckled softly to herself. "I think I need more than just one night to catch up on all that sleep I lost."

"Busy couple of days, hm?" Bjorlam smiled.

"Very…"

"Well, climb aboard and you can take a nap, or just sit there quietly if you like."

"Great. Thanks, as always." Riviere walked around to the back of the carriage and hoisted herself up onto the centre of the cart before sliding herself onto the raised seating platform.

"Well, you just make yourself as comfortable as you can." Bjorlam patted the large brown horse at the front of the carriage. "You ready?"

The horse flipped its head backwards in a gesture of implied understanding, whinnying softly as it swished its mane in the warm breeze.

"Off we go then."

The journey across the eastern side of the province lasted well into the afternoon. Every so often, Riviere had drifted off into a light sleep as the carriage clattered along the often unevenly paved roads, but she spent most of the time gazing curiously out at the landscape around her. When the countryside turned from green pines into endless shades of amber and copper, Riviere smiled to herself as she leaned her body lazily against the side of the cart. Though she spent a great deal of her time travelling from one edge of Skyrim to the other, she was most comfortable in the Rift, the south-eastern hold blanketed in the perpetual gold of Autumn. Another hour and a half after crossing into the Rift, the carriage came to a halt outside a walled city on the shore of Lake Honrich.

"Here we are!" Bjorlam turned around in his seat to face Riviere. "Hope the ride was, well, I suppose comfortable is a relative term…"

"It was perfectly fine," Riviere smiled as she reached for the small leather pouch still attached to her belt. "How much do I owe you this time?"

"Ah, keep your coin," Bjorlam replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This trip's on me, kid."

"Are…are you sure?" the young Imperial questioned. "Because I am more than happy to pay…"

"I'm sure," the carriage driver smiled. "My last passenger yesterday paid me triple. I didn't have time to ask why because he ran for it as soon as we arrived outside Whiterun. Not that I wanted to know, really…"

Riviere laughed, or at least tried to. Instead, a rather inelegant snort escaped from her mouth. "Well, thank you Bjorlam!" she giggled.

"You're welcome," he responded with a nod.

"Well, goodbye now!" waved Riviere as she turned and headed towards the gate that led into the city.

"Bye!" called Bjorlam as he coaxed the horse and carriage back onto the road and off in the direction from where they had come.

Riviere made her way swiftly to the lower platforms of Riften's internal waterway and walked to the southeast until she came to a semi-concealed door behind a metal gate. After glancing over her shoulder for a second, Riviere entered the gateway, closed it behind her, and then proceeded through the door into the dark depths of the Ratway.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Riviere burst through the wooden door at the outer edge of the large circular room and proceeded to stride across the right side of the Ragged Flagon, home of the Skyrim chapter of the Thieves' Guild, and the place where Riviere called home. A tall, fair haired, muscular man stood by the short ramp up beside a large stack of crates as Riviere walked up.

"Hey, where have you-" he began.

"Sorry, Dirge, can't talk," Riviere responded as she walked straight past the large man and continued through to the bar area at the back of the room. There were several other people seated at various tables around the bar: Delvin Mallory, a bald headed Breton, and Vex, a feisty blonde Imperial, were seated together at one. At a barstool sat a Redguard woman by the name of Tonilia who was chatting to the bartender. When Riviere rounded the corner, the bartender immediately called out to her.

"Well, if it isn't Brynjolf's little protégé," he called with a smirk. "Been wondering where you'd run off to…"

The rest of the people turned and looked at the girl with looks of surprise, contempt, or even a little bit of relief.

"Vekel, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I really need to speak to Brynjolf," Riviere replied. "Where is he?"

The Breton, Delvin, turned around in his seat. "He should be out back, with Mercer. Hey, are you alright, love?" he queried with an air of concern in his voice. "Did somethin' happen?"

"I'm fine, Delvin," Riviere forced a smile as she headed towards the passageway beyond the bar. "I'll tell you later. But I have something important to speak to Bryn about." With a nod to the rest of the people seated around the Flagon, Riviere wandered out into the passageway. Behind her, the bar patrons sat quietly thinking for a moment until the near silence was broken by a soft thump and a yelp from the bartender.

"Ow! Hey, what was that for?" Vekel complained as he rubbed his arm, looking at the Reguard woman who had just slapped him.

"Don't be so rude to the kid!" Tonilia scolded. "You've always been like that for, what, four years now? I don't see what your problem is at the best of times, but couldn't you see there was something wrong?!"

"Well, I-" the bartender stammered sheepishly.

"Just leave her alone, alright?" Tonilia asked.

"Yes, dear…" sighed Vekel as he went back to tending his bar. Vex, the Imperial woman seated beside Delvin, let out a snort of amusement.

"You two are just adorable!" Vex grinned.

"Oh shut up," snapped Tonilia.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"BRYNJOLF!" Riviere yelled across the cistern. Two men, both standing beside a wooden desk in front of a series of shelves, looked towards the sound of the girl's voice. The man on the left, a tall, strongly built Nord with shoulder length auburn hair, put down the pieces of paper that were in his hand before he moved quickly towards Riviere, taking her in a tight embrace as soon as she was near enough.

"Whoah! Easy there!" squealed the girl who had quite literally been picked up off her feet.

"Where the hell have you been, lass?!" Brynjolf demanded as he let go of Riviere. "You were gone for days, no one knew where!"

"Well, I was supposed to be doing a job for Mercer, but something… happened…" Riviere looked behind Brynjolf to the man still standing by the desk, a man who was a fair few years older than most of the others around. Like Delvin out by the bar, he was Breton, though his head supported a considerably larger amount of hair, despite the fact that it was greying all over. As she waved a quick greeting to the older man, thought she detected an odd expression on his face, an expression of surprise and shock mixed with what looked almost like disappointment. But that strange countenance soon faded into an odd kind of concern, almost as if it was being forced.

_Odd… _thought Riviere.

"Welcome back," the man by the desk said. "You were gone for quite a while. I hope that means you finished that job I gave you…"

"Actually, Mercer," began Riviere. "About that…"

"Of course you didn't. I should have known," sighed Mercer. "I knew I should have sent someone with more experience. And talent."

At that remark, Riviere clenched her fists beside her body and glared furiously at the Mercer.

"Hey!" she objected. She was about to defend herself verbally when Brynjolf gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That's enough, you two," he declared, though his eyes were trained angrily on the older Breton. He looked down at Riviere. "Now, you wanted to talk to me, lass?"

"Yes, I do," Riviere replied, still glaring at Mercer. "But I need a drink."

"Well, let's go sit down in the Flagon and we can talk, alright?" Brynjolf

Riviere nodded and turned back towards the passageway between the Cistern and the bar.

Brynjolf turned to Mercer. "I'll be back. Boss."

"Yes, well, you two go have a nice little reunion while I do your work for you…"

"I won't be too long, Mercer. But it's not as if the Guild is going to completely dissolve into Oblivion in the next hour or so."

With a nod, Brynjolf turned to follow Riviere to the bar. Mercer stared after him, a crooked smile appearing on his lined face before he went back to glancing over the pile of papers on his desk.

* * *

"Wait, WHAT?!" Brynjolf exclaimed, nearly choking on his mouthful of mead.

"I know, right? What the hell the Thalmor thought they were doing in Rorikstead is beyond me… But they were there nonetheless." Riviere took a drink from her own mead bottle, followed by a bite of sweetroll. "Anyway, I was following Mercer's instructions, and waiting in Frostfruit Inn like he said. But instead of that contact of his showing up, a Thalmor patrol decided to stop in for a drink. Or so I thought…" Riviere took another swig of mead. "As soon as I saw them, I ducked my head down and waited for them to pass me. I then stood up as quietly as I could and made my way to the door. When I got outside, I made a run for it. But I didn't get very far before they somehow found me and took me prisoner… I was sure they hadn't seen me, but apparently they did. Which either means that I am somehow out of practice at evading detection, or that they were looking for me, but that can't be right."

"No, that isn't right…" frowned Brynjolf. "You've been covering your tracks for years, and not once did they come after you until now."

"That's what I thought. I mean, how would they even know where to find me? I was halfway across Skyrim, working a job, for Madgod's sake…"

"This is all very peculiar," Brynjolf agreed. "But now for the most important question, lass. Are you alright?" His sage-green eyes looked anxiously at the young Imperial's face, which relaxed into an expression of peaceful happiness.

"I will be, Bryn," Riviere assured her friend. "And, amazingly, it wasn't all bad. If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met this really nice young Imperial soldier who-"

"You met a boy, didn't you lass…" Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" she protested, somewhat louder than she had anticipated as she thumped the table with her right fist. She then began to chuckle softly, thankful that the rest of the bar's patrons had either left or were too far away and had appeared not to have heard anything. "You're sounding like my Dad again," she continued. "Besides, he's a total sweetheart! That and he's the one who let me out of the cell at Helgen and then escorted me to safety. I owe him my life."

"Well," countered Brynjolf. "Perhaps I had better pay the lad a visit…"

"Brynjolf. No. Don't go scaring my potential friends away! That's just mean!"

"I _meant_ to say thanks for saving you!"

"No, you meant to go interrogate him and assess his intentions. Just like the last time I said I made a friend with that Dunmer in Windhelm, and you scared him so much that he wouldn't talk to me again!"

"I said I was sorry," shrugged Brynjolf.

"I know, and I'm over that now. But please please _please _promise me that you won't go and interrogate him. Please?"

"Fine. I promise I won't scare your friend. But will you at least tell me his name?"

Riviere looked suspiciously at her red haired friend. "Why?"

"Because," Brynjolf answered, "Now that you've told me all about your new hero, I'm curious. And while I promise not to scare him off, I would still like to thank him."

Riviere sighed. "Fine. But you swear on your life that you will _not _interrogate him? Deal?" She extended her hand towards her friend.

"Aye, lass," Brynjolf replied as he shook Riviere's hand.

"Good. His name is Hadvar, and he's a legionnaire."

"Well, of all the men to take a liking to, I suppose an Imperial soldier is as smart a choice as any…"

"Bryn, really?" retorted the girl. "I met him a day ago, and we barely know anything beyond each other's names. So _don't _look at me like that!"

"Ahem…" Delvin Mallory emerged from the hallway and seated himself beside Riviere at the table. "Hate to intrude on such an intriguing conversation, but Mercer's gettin' very impatient." He looked at Brynjolf. "For all of our sakes, I might advise that you get back to whatever it is he wanted you to be doin'." Delvin then turned to Riviere and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not that it's more important than you, love. Not to us. But Mercer's, well, Mercer…"

"Ah, right," remembered Brynjolf. "I had probably better get back to work. Delvin, you keep Riva company."

"Sure thing," Delvin replied.

Brynjolf took one final mouthful of mead. He smiled apologetically at Riviere. "Sorry, lass. But apparently I have important business to attend to."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It wasn't until after several more hours sitting in the Flagon, drinking mead, and conversing with Delvin that Riviere remembered just how little sleep she'd had in the last few days. At first she began to dismiss it as the mead getting to her head, but when she looked down at the table, there was only a single empty bottle in front of her. Excusing herself with a yawn and a wave goodnight, Riviere wandered back to the cistern.

Most of the Guild members slept in the main circular chamber, in one of the beds that was lined up against the outer wall. But when Riviere had arrived, due to a series of circumstances including most notably her very young age, she had elected not to stay in the main chamber with a group of strangers. Instead, she was given the choice of either the floor in the Flagon, or the floor of the small training room that branched off from the Cistern. Riviere chose the latter, and so set up a bedroll in one of the far corners of the room, behind a large stack of hay which had been moved into its current position for the purpose of granting a little more privacy. Though she had since had plenty of opportunities to take ownership of one of the beds in the cistern, Riviere remained in the training room. After all, it was certainly quiet enough for sleeping, as people rarely trained late into the night.

Riviere entered into the training room and plodded sluggishly over to her bedroll. After submitting to another drowsy yawn, she flopped down onto the thin piece of bedding and buried her face in the small pillow at its top end. She then rolled over onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. Then glancing over to her right, she noticed a flowing gown of pale cerulean fabric, tossed lazily atop the stack of hay. Riviere reached up with her left hand and gently brushed her hand against the soft folds that draped down the side to where she could reach. She admired this gown of hers, her nightgown, as it had somehow weathered for years longer than one might expect. Perhaps because when her brother had presented it to her many years ago, it had been far too large, and though she had loved the gown dearly, it had never really fitted her until now. Riviere sighed. She really wanted nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep, but he changed her mind as she looked down at herself. Her once-white shirt had turned a dusty shade of pale yellow, and her trousers were covered in patches of dirt. Sighing again, Riviere kicked off her boots and placed them at the foot of her bedroll. Then she stood, somewhat shakily from her increasing weariness, before taking a hold of her gown by the lightly embroidered neckline. The wrist-length sleeves and the long skirt dropped towards the floor a she picked it up and began to reach inside from the bottom until she could find the two slots through which she needed to place her arms. She then awkwardly hoisted the garment over her head until she could put her head through the large hole, after which she dropped the gown down around her. With the gown resting loosely on her shoulders, she managed to wiggle out of her daytime attire, which she promptly dumped on top of her boots. After sliding her arms into the sleeves of her gown, she dropped back down onto her bedroll, this time climbing inside and wrapping herself up in the thin covering. It was barely warm enough, and Riviere had been meaning to purchase herself a couple of blankets to stuff the bedding with, but for now she was content. After a few minute of gazing sleepy-eyed at one of the delicately flickering torches on the wall beside her, Riviere's hazel eyes closed and she drifted off into a deep slumber.

* * *

At the strong recommendation of his aunt and Uncle, Hadvar had decided to stay with them in Riverwood for another day and night after the one on which he had arrived with Riviere. Though he knew full well that he needed to get back to Solitude as early as he possibly could, he was also terribly worn out from the whole Helgen experience. So in Riverwood he stayed, setting up a bedroll for himself in the small basement of his relatives' home. He had contemplated going over to the inn where Riviere had spent her night in the town to talk with her for a while, but though he was still incredibly curious about the mysterious girl, he resolved that he should probably leave her be and let her sleep. In the morning after he had awoken and had something quick to eat, he had walked over to the inn in the hopes that the girl was still there, but alas she had left not more than half an hour earlier. Slightly disappointed by this, Hadvar just ordered a drink and went to sit down at one of the vacant tables around the interior of the inn. He then spent the day wandering back and forth between the inn and his uncle's forge outside the house.

After eating dinner with his family, Hadvar excused himself to go and have another drink at the inn. He ordered a tankard of mead, much as he had done several times throughout the day, and went to the same table that he had sat himself at each before. After taking a couple of mouthfuls from his tankard, he sighed drowsily and then placed the metallic vessel back on the table. He then placed his elbow upon the edge of the table and rested his chin on his hand, sitting there alone and in relative silence until he was startled by a gentle tap on the shoulder.

Hadvar turned around to find himself looking at an exhausted courier who was holding a small envelope in his hand. The courier extended the hand holding the envelope towards Hadvar.

"Got... a letter... for you, sir," wheezed the messenger as he handed the envelope the Hadvar, who was staring curiously at the messenger. "Don't know... who from."

Hadvar took the envelope carefully and looked it over. It was made from plain white paper, and appeared to be completely blank, save for the seal on the back. The red wax seal was printed with some kind of insignia that he did not recognize; a vertical diamond with a circle in the centre was pressed into the seal.

"Um, thanks," Hadvar frowned and scratched his head. He looked up again, hoping to try and find out more information about the strange envelope, but the courier had managed to slip away into the evening.

"Huh," sighed Hadvar as he looked around the inn to make sure that the courier wasn't still inside, but he soon concluded that he was long gone. "Strange…" he thought as he looked curiously back at the envelope in his hand. He slid his thumb underneath the flap and opened it, carefully trying not to ruin the seal. Inside the small paper sheath was a thin piece of parchment, folded in half widthways. Hadvar opened the paper to find only two words, written in a basic yet handsome script;

Thank you.

He stared at the message for a few moments, lost in thought as he scrutinized the paper for clues as to its origin. He turned it over in his hands, but there was nothing written on the paper other than the few words on the front. Hadvar frowned at the incredibly vague and equally mysterious letter, hoping that maybe it would somehow reveal more information about the sender, however such was not the case, and Hadvar finally gave up and put the message back into the envelope, which he then placed beside him on the table. After gulping down the last of his mead, Hadvar gingerly picked up the envelope once more, thanked the bartender for his drink on the way out, and then wandered back down to his aunt and uncle's home to spend a somewhat restless night before returning to Solitude the following morning.

* * *

"Rivi-e-ere…"

The girl was still fast asleep in her bedroll, curled up tightly amongst the thin folds of the cover. Brynjolf was kneeling on the floor beside her, trying to coax her out of bed.

"Wake up, lass!" Brynjolf poked Riviere gently as she continued to lie silently on the floor. "It's past midday. I think you've slept enough, now…"

Riviere stirred slightly, taking a firm hold of the cover around her before pulling it up over her head.

"Oh, come on, lass," sighed Brynjolf. "As absolutely wonderful as sleep is, you do have a job, remember?"

Riviere mumbled something to herself under the covers before lowering them to let her eyes peek over the edge of the cover. She glared back at her redheaded friend, and continued to mumble inaudibly into the covers.

"What was that?" Brynjolf queried with a lopsided grin. "I didn't quite catch all that…"

Riviere rolled her eyes and pushed the covers fully off her face. "I said that last time I went and tried to do my job, I was captured by the Thalmor. Forgive me for not being overjoyed at the prospect of that happening again."

"Don't worry, lass," Brynjolf assured her. "Mercer just has a few routine scouting things that need to be done, and, well, you're the Guild Scout."

"Again," Riviere sat up, leaning her back against the wall. "Last time Mercer sent me on a job, I was captured by the Thalmor. Look, can't I just take a day off? Please?"

"Sorry, Riva. If it was my decision, I'd let you sleep all day, but sadly, it isn't. But on the bright side, should be something easy. Certainly nothing like Goldenglow Estate. Not that you found that at all difficult, did you lass?"

Riviere managed to contain a giggle, but was not able to keep her cheeks from reddening.

"Vex was so mad when I completed that job. Still is, probably. After all, I did beat the

infiltrator at her own game. Oh, and speaking of Vex, that reminds me…"

Riviere crawled completely out from under the covers and reached out to her pile of

clothes at the end of the bed. She fumbled around until she found what she was looking for; the small leather pouch that was still hanging from her belt. She tossed the small bag to Brynjolf.

"Open it," Riviere encouraged with a wave of her hand.

Brynjolf did so, and his eyes widened in amazement as he poured the contents of the pouch into his hand.

"By the Eight! That's a lot of diamonds…"

"I found them in Helgen. I think they were what the Thalmor paid the interrogator with so that he would, how did they put it, oh… Yes, I believe they said something along the lines of so that he will take care of our special guest, here, and make sure that she does not escape!And if she does, there will be di-ire consequences…" Riviere said with her best Thalmor-mocking voice.

Brynjolf threw back his head and laughed. "Well done, lass. Well done. Your impersonation skill are absolutely flawless!"

"Thank you, thank you," Riviere bowed her head. "All kidding aside, since I apparently have work to do, do you think you could take these to Vex for me? They look real to me, but I'm not as good an appraiser as she is. Oh, but keep an eye on her. I do want those diamonds back..."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Fairly soon after Brynjolf left, Riviere emerged from the training room, wearing the grey leather suit that identified her as a member of the Thieves' Guild. Her sleeveless tunic was fastened across her chest and abdomen with a series of small buckles running down the centre, and a double stranded belt of a darker kind of leather ran around her waist. Two large straps of the same black hide crisscrossed over her shoulders, one laden with pockets, the other with little more than a metal clasp bearing the simple likeness of a flower. Her matching trousers were belted with a thick band that housed several pouches on either hip, and two small, empty scabbards were attached to both the belt and loosely around Riviere's thighs. She also wore a pair of fingerless gloves that reached almost to her elbows, and a pair of heavily buckled boots that, if they were not fastened properly, jingled softly as Riviere stepped. It just happened to be one of those mornings where, in her rush to dress herself before setting off for work, Riviere had neglected to tighten the boot buckles completely, and so as she walked swiftly into the cistern, her feet jingled with every step. _I'll have to fix that later, _she thought, _but for now I have to get going…_ Riviere made her way over to the large desk where Mercer Frey was standing, as usual, staring down at a pair of small maps. Mercer peered up from the crude drawings to briefly glare at Riviere as she crossed the cistern, before dropping his gaze back down to the desk. As Riviere came within a few metres of the desk, Mercer hurriedly removed one of the two maps and stuffed it into a small drawer in front of him on the wooden table that was filled with all manner or parchments and envelopes. Riviere watched curiously as Mercer pulled a silver chain with a small key on it from around his neck, quickly locked the small drawer on his side of the desk and then placed the chain back around his neck, making sure that the small metal key slid down inside his jacket, away from view.

_Interesting… _thought Riviere. She had never really noticed that small drawer before, but she now surmised that whatever was in there, her boss did not want her to see.

"Nice of you to join us," Mercer remarked with as much sarcasm as one can possibly generate, something he seemed to resort to quite often when speaking to Riviere. The girl rolled her eyes, but said nothing for she was not in the mood for a clever comeback.

"Well, you've got work to do," continued Mercer. He turned the map that was still on top of the desk to face Riviere properly, and she recognized it as a map of the Rift. Mercer moved his hand along the edge of the map until he found what he was looking for, and pointed to a stretch of road near Ivarstead leading southeast, towards the city. "There is supposed to be a merchant caravan heading this way from Solitude. I want you to find it, scout it out, then…"

"Hold them up and take their stuff?" Riviere finished. "Look, the scouting part is all well and good. That's what I do. But you know I don't especially like dealing with the targets themselves."

"Yes, I know all about this aversion of yours, hence why you're a scout and nothing more."

Again, Riviere rolled her eyes. Her level of irritation was rising steadily within her, but she kept it inside of her as best she could.

"And that is why," Mercer continued, "I am sending Sapphire with you. You can deal with the approach, she can deal with the holdup, and then you can both grab the merchandise and come back here. Understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," sighed Riviere, casting a glance over her shoulder at the rest of the cistern. "Speaking of Sapphire, where is she?"

As if in response to Riviere's question, a woman's voice yelled loudly from the direction of the corridor leading from the Flagon.

"GET BACK HERE, VIPIR, YOU COWARD!" the voice yelled again as a man came running out of the corridor, through the cistern, and disappeared up a ladder on the far side. Next followed a woman, slightly older than Riviere, bearing a tremendous scowl on her face.

This woman, Sapphire, was of average height and build, and had shoulder length medium brown hair that loosely framed her face. She was wearing the same grey uniform as Riviere, though since she was built a little more maturely, the leather sat far better on her figure than it did the on the younger girl. Though her current expression showed a great deal of anger, it was in fact only slightly more surly than usual. She was not known for her kindness or her patience, and showed little to no concern for others, save for Riviere, with whom she shared something of an interesting friendship, stemming from the knowledge that they both had troubled pasts, and both had their families taken from them years ago. It was this loss, however, that gave Sapphire her bitter disposition and quick tempered nature, both of which were evident at present.

Sapphire was about to go after the man who had escaped up the ladder, but when she caught Mercer's annoyed gaze with her own, she decided against it and figured she should forget her own personal squabbles for the time being and get back to her job. After a final glare in the direction of the ladder, she began to walk towards Riviere and her boss, swearing under her breath as she did so. Upon reaching Riviere's side, the woman nodded a silent hello before turning to Mercer.

"Sorry," she apologised. "Vipir was being a complete…"

"I don't care," snapped Mercer. "What you do in your spare time is of no concern to me. But what I do care about is how you do your job. So this had better not impact your performance."

"Of course," Sapphire nodded.

"Now, you both know what you're supposed to be doing?"

Riviere and Sapphire both nodded in affirmation.

"Good. Now get out of here."

* * *

"So," Sapphire turned to Riviere as they walked through the city gates that connected the northern half of Riften to the autumnal forests outside the walls. "You were gone for quite some time. You had us all worried, you know. Well, most of us…"

"You haven't heard about my… exciting… week yet?" Riviere replied, somewhat surprised that her story hadn't managed to float around the rest of the Guild.

"Not really. All I heard, well, overheard, was something about the Thalmor. But I think Brynjolf has been trying to keep it pretty quiet."

"Ha, I suppose you're right. He's like that sometimes. But it's alright. I don't really care who knows about what happened. It's not as if there's anything that can be done about it since it's in the past…"

"Well what happened, then?" Sapphire asked curiously.

"It's a long story, but the short of it is that I was supposed to be working a job for Mercer when a Thalmor patrol came by, apparently looking for me. I tried to run, but they found me, captured me, and took me with them to Helgen. Then things got _very _interesting." Riviere heavily emphasised the very before continuing on. "I was stuck in a prison cell beneath the city, when all hell broke loose up above. Wait a minute…" Riviere stopped mid-sentence, then burst into laughter. "OH MY GOD. I believe I forgot to mention a rather vital piece of information when I was talking to Brynjolf. I believe I forgot to mention that, well, there was a dragon…"

Sapphire stopped in her tracks. "A _what_?" she gasped.

"I didn't believe it at first, but then I saw it. Majestic beast, though rather terrifying as you'd expect. And before you ask, no I was not drunk or anything like that, and there are plenty of people who can attest to my story. The news should be beginning to spread around Skyrim by now, so that should prove that I'm not going crazy."

Sapphire whistled. "Well, you certainly weren't lying about the interesting part. But, a dragon? I didn't even think they existed. Not these days, anyway…"

"Oh but wait, I haven't gotten to the best part yet!" Riviere said excitedly.

"What, something more impressive than a damn dragon?!"

"Well, it impressed me," shrugged Riviere. "So anyway, I was sitting in the cell, all alone except for the old interrogator who was supposed to be minding me for a few hours while the Thalmor presided over the execution that was meant to be taking place, but then the dragon attacked and the rebels who were meant to be executed were either vapourised or they were able to escape. Several of the ones who did escape came down into the chamber where I was being held, and after successfully fighting the interrogator and his assistant, they ran further into the keep, somehow managing to not notice someone trapped in a cell. I couldn't shout because I as gagged, but they all ran straight past me. At the time I was most displeased, as I thought that even though they were Rebels and therefore not exactly my friends, I had come to the terrible realization that they were probably the only chance I had at escaping…" Riviere stopped for a moment to take a big gulp of air, as she was beginning to get rather excited. "But then," she continued, trying to slow herself down a little as she spoke, " just as I was beginning to get all melodramatic and self pitying, I heard someone else coming down into the chamber from the town above. I watched, with much relief, as a young Imperial soldier entered, and after a few minutes of mime-negotiation on my part, he was able to rescue me and then we escaped together." Riviere couldn't help herself, and let out a little sigh as she completed her story.

Sapphire stared at Riviere for a few seconds. "So, a knight in not-so-shining armour, huh?" Sapphire concluded.

"Yeah, pretty much…" Riviere smiled.

"And, was he attractive?" Sapphire added jokingly.

"Uh, well," Riviere ran a hand back through her hair. "I thought so, yes…"

Sapphire just laughed in reply.

"Oh shut up," grumbled Riviere, her cheeks beginning to take on a reddish glow.

* * *

The carriage had stopped in a small clearing by the side of the road. The driver had dismounted the wooden cart, untied the horse from the front, and led his animal just outside of the clearing, to a small stream that bubbled gently, shimmering delicately in the midday sun. Riviere and Sapphire had caught up with the carriage not long before, and had been stealthily trailing it to its current location. The two thieves now moved a little closer, where there was a large cluster of rocks beneath a large branch that hung low to the ground. They positioned themselves out of sight and quietly observed the situation; the cart was relatively small for that of a merchant. The storage area at the back was covered with a large sheet of dark brown fabric, hiding its cargo from view, which hinted that there was likely quite an amount of valuable goods back there. So it was strange in that respect, for the driver had left his carriage out in the air, in a perfect position for it to be attacked.

"Hmm. This seems a little too convenient, don't you think?" whispered Sapphire. "I mean, it's just out in the open like that. I guess he could just be a really inexperienced driver, on his first trip out of the city, but it looks more like he's waiting..."

"Which could mean one of two things," Riviere whispered back, squinting a little as she peered out from behind the rock and scrutinized the carriage in the clearing. "Firstly, he could be waiting for someone to some meet him for some reason. Secondly, he could potentially be waiting for us..."

"An ambush, huh?" replied Sapphire. "It's possible, though I don't think that's very likely. How could he even know we were coming, or when? We've covered our tracks pretty damn well, as usual."

"That's what I would have thought, before I was kidnapped..." Riviere frowned. She had been watching the driver lead his horse a little further along the stream, but they had suddenly disappeared behind a small rocky outcrop. "I could just be paranoid, but I still think we should at least consider every possibility, just to be safe."

"Alright," Sapphire responded. "I'll humor you. But you're still the scout, which means you're still in charge of coming up with a plan." She nudged Riviere playfully on the shoulder. "So what do we do form here?"

"Well, I think it would be wise to sit here a little longer, see if he does anything."

"Right, or if someone else comes, we can be ready. How about if you watch the driver, and I'll look over-"

"Shhhh! He's coming back, and there's someone else too..."

Riviere and Sapphire both instinctively ducked down, but only so far that they could still see over the top edge of the large rock that they were crouching behind. The driver now led not only his horse, but a relatively short, cloaked figure beside him back towards the carriage. Upon reaching the cart, the driver hitched the horse to the front before walking around to the rear of the cart, followed closely by the hooded figure. The driver reached down to the edge of the fabric that was covering the cargo, and with a strong tug, pulled the brown covering off the cart. The driver stepped aside, and waved for the cloaked figure to observe the wares in the back of the carriage; as Riviere and Sapphire could see from their position, two large and heavily locked chests sat in the middle. Several small, wooden crates and one larger one filled much of the space around the large chests, and any room left over seemed to be filled with bolts of brightly colored, intricately patterned fabrics.

"Well? Do you have it?" said the hooded figure in a husky yet feminine voice.

"Yes, yes, of course!" The driver vigorously shook his head. "In that crate, there." He pointed to a small, thin box to the left of the large chests. "I packed it very carefully, ma'am, did it myself to make sure it would be safe."

The hooded woman huffed to herself, and waved a gloved hand to the driver as she replied impatiently. "Well, get it out, little man. I'm not reaching across there to get it."

The driver obliged without hesitation, swiftly grabbed the box and handed it to the hooded woman who promptly snatched it from his hands. The woman opened the box and scrutinized its contents. Riviere and Sapphire both lifted their heads a little higher over the edge of the rock, but they could not see what the mysterious woman was looking at, for she had turned her back on the position of the two thieves.

"Good. You've done well, little man." The hooded woman closed the box and stuffed it into a satchel underneath her cloak. From that same satchel, she produced a small bag that jingled as she handed it to the driver. "Hopefully this is sufficient.

"Oh, yes. Thank you very much for your kindness. Thank you once again." The driver bowed his head to the woman, but by the time he lifted himself up again, the mysterious woman had disappeared back in the direction from where she had come before.

Riviere and Sapphire exchanged questioning glances.

"Sapphire," Riviere whispered. "Do you think you can manage the carriage on your own?"

"Well, uh, yes..." she whispered back, taken slightly aback by the question. "I should be able to. Wh-why? What are you going to be doing? You're not going after that woman, are you?"

"Of course I am," Riviere replied. "Whatever she took seemed important, and often enough, important implies _valuable..."_

"Well, it's not as if I can persuade you otherwise..." sighed Sapphire. "But don't do anything stupid, else Brynjolf will kill me!"

"I'll be careful. Promise!" smiled Riviere. "Besides..." Riviere reached down and tapped a sheathed dagger strapped to her right thigh, one of two that she always carried, the other being similarly attached on the other leg. "I've got my blades, as always. Plus I'll stay out of sight. I'm generally pretty good at that."

"Right, I guess so... But seriously though, for my sake as well as yours, watch yourself."

"Will do."

Riviere quickly glanced over the top of the rock again, and noted that the driver had gone back to surveying his cargo, and conveniently had his back turned to the two thieves. After a quick salute to Sapphire, Riviere ran quickly and quietly off to where the mysterious hooded woman had gone, leaving Sapphire alone behind the rock to finish their job.


	9. Chapter 8

The sun was just beginning to descend over the horizon when Riviere wandered back through Riften's city gates, heading quickly across the wooden walkways above the canal to find herself at the rear of the city's temple, a relatively large wood and stone structure dedicated to Lady Mara. Riviere walked through the front courtyard of the temple to an archway on the opposite side, and made her way through to a burial plot behind the building; a few simple headstones stood inside this fenced area, which was not more than half a dozen feet long on each side. Located up against the wall of the temple itself was a small tomb, a mostly empty construction housing little more than a plain slab in the centre, which to most eyes appeared to be nothing but a nondescript marble pall. Riviere walked slowly into the stone structure and stood there, her eyes resting on a small symbol on the front of the marble slab. She bent down and ran her fingers gently over the carved insignia, a diamond with a circle at its centre. Carefully, Riviere pushed on the carving, causing it to disappear slightly inside the marble slab. She released the button and took a step backwards, watching as the slab slid away into a hidden section of the wall. A small stairway was revealed beneath the tomb, leading down to an empty chamber with a large grate on the floor at the far end, and a pull chain against the wall at the bottom of the stairway. Riviere descended the stairs swiftly, and upon reaching the bottom, extended her hand to grab the large ring of the pull chain. She tugged on the chain, and could immediately hear a clicking sound, caused by a mechanism in the tomb above; the mechanism which controlled the marble slab, which now slid smoothly back into its place over the hidden chamber. Riviere now turned to face and walked towards the large grate on the floor of the chamber. It was a large, round piece of wood, several inches thick, thus making it very heavy, at least for Riviere. She slid her fingers beneath the edges of the grate, and slowly lifted it up so that it could stand open by itself. Riviere looked down into the newly opened hole; it was a drop of about ten feet, however there was a rickety old ladder at the side so that access up and down the chute was much simpler, and so that one need not jump their way through the small opening. Carefully, Riviere slid her feet over the edge to stand on the ladder, and then stepped slowly downwards. When she was far enough below the opening, she gave a tug on the grate, and it dropped back over the opening with a loud thud. Riviere shimmied the rest of the way down the old ladder, and then turned around to face the familiar large chamber where she and her fellow Guild members lived and worked.

The Cistern was unusually quiet, though certainly not empty. At a large table near the corridor to the training room, several Guild members sat in silence, apparently waiting for something. Mercer stood by his desk, as usual, and was speaking softly yet somewhat angrily to Sapphire, who was just nodding her head in reply to whatever her boss was saying. Beside Sapphire, Brynjolf was listening with his arms folded across his chest, and a concerned look on his face. Riviere was wondering whether or not she should leave or come back, but before she could make a decision, her eyes met Mercer's. He immediately stopped talking to Sapphire, and instead emerged from behind his desk and stormed towards Riviere, who instinctively placed a hand on the dagger strapped to her right leg. Brynjolf was following closely behind Mercer, and Sapphire behind Brynjolf, as both could tell from Mercer's sudden burst of anger that Riviere was about to be the recipient of, at the very least, a torrent of verbal rage.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" Mercer thundered as he neared Riviere. "YOU ARE NOT HERE TO FULFILL PERSONAL AGENDAS. YOU ARE HERE TO DO AS YOU ARE TOLD! YOU ANSWER TO ME!"

As Mercer got closer to Riviere, her grip on her blade tightened, but as she readied herself to draw her weapon, Mercer was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder. Mercer looked behind him to see Brynjolf holding him back. "Don't do it, Mercer," Brynjolf warned. "Remember why she's here."

Mercer shook himself free of Brynjolf's hold. "Yes, well, it certainly isn't for her intelligence, or ability to follow simple orders," he snarled.

"Hey, you s'wit!" Riviere countered, her hand still on her dagger. "Maybe if you actually-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH, YOU TWO!" Brynjolf yelled, stepping between Mercer and Riviere before they started swinging more than just words.

"Might I interject for just a moment?" Sapphire said quietly from behind the others. She looked towards Riviere as she cleared her throat. "Riviere had a perfectly valid reason for going after-"

"That is NOT for you to decide," snapped Mercer. "But for both of your sakes, she had better have had a damn good reason for disobeying my orders, and then wandering off on her own. Else you're both as good as-"

"Well, why don't we let her explain?" Brynjolf interrupted. He turned to Riviere, with a look on his face that seemed to ask her if she was absolutely sure that her reason was indeed valid. "Go on, lass."

After a final glance towards Mercer, whose face was still twisted into a furious scowl, Riviere sighed and began to tell her story.

"I'm assuming that Sapphire told you about the mysterious woman who turned up, yes?" she began. Brynjolf and Sapphire nodded, while Mercer just rolled his eyes.

"She was covered completely in a dark cloak and suit underneath it, so it was impossible to see any defining features at the time. But when she spoke, her accent sounded oddly familiar. I think she was a Bosmer, which would make sense given her height and build, for I could estimate those things quite easily.

She came out of nowhere, really. One minute, the driver was walking his horse down by the stream, and the next he was returning with a hooded figure. When they approached the carriage, the driver hitched his horse back to the front while the woman walked around towards the cargo stacked up in the back. She just stood there and stared at the contents until the driver joined her, at which point, she commanded him to retrieve something from the carriage. It was hard to see exactly what he was reaching for from where Sapphire and I were hiding, but I figured that it was a box of some sort, quite small, and thin too. I would have loved to have seen what was inside the box, but the woman snatched it from the driver and then turned away to check its contents. Unfortunately for us, she turned so far away that we could not catch a glimpse of what was in there. But whatever it was, it was obviously important, because the woman came looking specifically for it. She then handed the man a fairly substantial purse of coins, and proceeded to stuff the box inside her cloak, into a bag perhaps, before disappearing again from whence she came earlier..."

Mercer's expression had softened a little, into an odd mixture of his usual contempt merged with a brewing curiosity. Something had grabbed his attention. Riviere had been carefully watching his expression change as she spoke; first, when she had mentioned the woman, Mercer's eyes had widened momentarily, making Riviere wonder whether it was a flash of familiarity. Second, when she had mentioned the box, Mercer had begun to look quite interested. Perhaps he figured the same as Riviere had, that the mysterious contents were incredibly valuable. But Riviere had thought that Mercer's expression had conveyed a hint of recognition, as if Mercer knew that the box contained, or at least something about it. _Interesting... _she thought to herself. _Obviously, he knows something I don't. Well, two can play at that game. I'll choose my words carefully from now on..._

"It was at this point," continued Riviere," that I decided to try and follow the woman, to either find out more about her, what was in the box, or preferably about both. I asked Sapphire to take care of the carriage while I went off on my own, following the woman through the woods, heading westwards.

The woman did not take a direct route at all, so for most of the journey, I could not tell where she was going. She kept weaving in and out of the trees, around hills, across streams. At first, I worried that perhaps she had spotted me already, even though I had been as careful as I could to avoid detection. But after a while, I decided that she hadn't actually seen me, because even though she kept wandering one of the most indirect routes that I have ever followed, she didn't turn back to look behind her, not once. She never tried to lose me as such. And she certainly never hinted that she was aware of someone right behind her, So I guessed that I was safe, that she hadn't detected her shadow, and I was able to follow her all the way to Ivarstead. I watched her walk into the inn, but I didn't follow her immediately, after what happened last time I wandered into such a place..."

She paused momentarily. Out of the corner of her eye, Riviere detected another change in Mercer's expression. It was not a look of curiosity like before, nor was it a look of surprise as she had somewhat expected. She couldn't be sure without looking directly at his face, but Riviere was sure that she had noticed her boss's face show a brief flash of amusement, bordering on concealed delight, when she mentioned her prior incident.

"Uh, so anyway, after a little while I decided that the area was safe and clear for me to cross the road and enter the inn myself. I did so, and as soon as I walked inside, took myself a seat up the back of the inn, towards the bar. I saw the woman sitting at a small table against the wall, about half way between myself and the door. She had ordered a drink, which the bartender took over to her before returning to me and asking if I wanted something. I replied that I would have a bottle of mead, which he went and got for me from down in the cellar. While he was gone, I turned as subtly as I could to look towards the woman. She was still wearing her cloak which, annoyingly for me, was hiding her face from view. However, what I could see was the box, which she had placed on the table."

Mercer's eyes lit up. "Did you get a look inside it?" he questioned, unsuccessfully masking the excitement in his voice.

Again, Riviere thought that he looked a little too eager. "No," she replied slowly. "I only saw the outside."

"Hmph," Mercer huffed in disapproval. "Well, did you at least get a good look at the box itself?"

"I did," replied Riviere, again thinking that Mercer was _definitely _withholding something. She didn't want to reveal too much more about the box or the woman. If Mercer wasn't going to say anything, then neither was she. But she couldn't just stop where she was and outright refuse to divulge anything else. Therefore there was only one solution that she saw left: lie.

"It was a small box, about twice as long as it was wide. It was carved out of some kind of dark wood, but it was quite plain."

"No carvings? No image on the lid?" Mercer asked, looking somewhat confused, and ever so slightly disappointed.

"No, nothing," Riviere lied. She was watching Mercer's expression change again, this time back into a sort of pensive curiosity. He just stood there thinking to himself for a few moments, before finally looking up again.

"Well, this is an interesting development, for sure..." he said with a forced smile. "Sapphire, Brynjolf, thank you for your time. You two can go now." He waved his hand dismissively, but then turned to Riviere. "You. Stay here just a moment. I have one last thing to ask."

Sapphire nodded and then left, followed closely by Brynjolf, who still had a slightly worried look on his face as he looked over his shoulder at Riviere. Riviere rolled her eyes at her friend, and then mouthed the words "Don't worry. I'll be fine." Brynjolf nodded back, and then disappeared in the direction of the bar.

Mercer began to walk back towards his desk, with Riviere closely in tow. He placed his hands on the edge of the desk, and then peered up at Riviere who had taken a place on the opposite side. "Now, is there anything else you can remember about the box?" Mercer asked in a hushed voice.

"Nothing more than what I already told you," Riviere replied.

"Hmmm... Interesting. Well, it seems that you may have actually stumbled across something rather valuable. I shall have to look into this a little more. You should keep your eyes open and see if you too can discover anything more. That being said, that does not mean that you can take a break from your regular work, and it certainly does not mean that you are off the hook for-"

"Going off on my own, and disobeying orders, yes. I know." Riviere sighed.

"Hmph. Well, consider yourself on probation, and therefore under surveillance. So watch it."

"Yes, sir."

"Off you go then. And don't forget to keep a look out for anything relating to that box, or the woman who picked it up."

"Yes, sir."


	10. Chapter 9

Riviere wandered slowly back to the training room, completely lost in thought the entire way. She was indeed going to continue her investigation into the mysterious woman and her equally mysterious box, just as Mercer had suggested. But she had also resolved that she was not going to reveal any findings to her boss, or anyone really, at least not anything particularly important. There was just something not right about Mercer's reaction to her story, but she couldn't quite figure out what. _But I know I'm going to need some help along the way _Riviere thought to herself. _I guess Sapphire can help if I need it. She did see th_e _woman after all, and could maybe have seen something different than what I did. And I can always trust Brynjolf... _

Riviere was so lost in her own mind by this point, that when she turned into the training room, she nearly walked straight into the wall to the left of the doorway. After correcting her direction, she moved over to her corner of the room and knelt down on her bedding. She reached behind her pillow to touch a smooth stone near the base of the wall. She dug her fingers in around the edges, and easily removed the stone, revealing a small alcove space behind it. She reached into the hole and pulled out a pale leather-bound journal, a dark teal feathered quill, a small bottle of swirling black ink, and a thin piece of soft charcoal. She replaced the stone over the hidden alcove, and then sat with her back up against the wall. She opened the journal to the next blank page, about three-quarters of the way through the book, and began to write:

"Description of box: about ten by three inches. Dark lacquered wood, possibly Oak. Intricate carvings on lid and sides. Hard to identify, but the central design seemed to depict a bird. An eagle, maybe? It looked oddly familiar, but something that I have not seen for a very long time. Research required."

Riviere's quill had begun to run dry, but instead of putting it back into the pot of ink, she placed it down on the floor and instead picked up the piece of charcoal, and began to sketch an image of the box on the same page, below her notes. After putting down a rough image of the box, she stared at it and again got lost in her thoughts. She had tried to recreate the design on the lid, but something wasn't quite right. She closed her eyes and tried to think harder, trying to remember exactly what the image had been. When she was satisfied with a recollection in her head, she began to copy it down on the opposite page. She was sure that it was an eagle, now, with its large wings stretched upwards, arching around its body and up over its head to almost meet in the middle. She stared down at her paper, again trying hard to remember where she had seen that symbol before, but to no avail. Riviere sighed, and decided that either she wasn't remembering as accurately as she thought, or that she had truly forgotten what that symbol meant.

Annoyed, yet of the realization that she was not about to figure out the symbol's meaning or origin at present, Riviere put down her charcoal, and then picked up the quill again to begin writing more notes on what empty space was left on the two pages she had just drawn on. Beside her drawing of the box itself, she began to write a list of possible things that were contained within the box. _Judging by the size, _she thought, _it can't be too big. An amulet or talisman perhaps? That would account for the presumed value, and would certainly fit. There could even be multiple pieces of jewellery in there, like a set. Hmmm... That's a good idea._ Riviere wrote down the word _amulet_ in an elegant hand on the left side of the page, followed by _jewellery _just below it. But_ what else could fit? _Riviere tapped her chin thoughtfully with the quill, then looked down at her journal again, not to write but to observe its size. _My journal is a little too big, but a smaller one could fit in there just fine. I have seen many journals locked away in boxes like that, now that I think about it. _Riviere wrote _journal _beneath her other words, and then went back to thinking. _Long and thin, valuable. Some kind of artifact, like a charm? But not a weapon, it's not big enough, unless... _Riviere looked down at her dagger by her side. She pulled it gently from its sheath and held it in her hands, carefully looking it over: it was an ordinary steel dagger, one of two identical blades that she always carried, with a thin, sharp blade and a leather-bound hilt. The top of the blade widened near the hilt, and was engraved here with a simple knotted design, like many Nordic weapons. _This could definitely fit in the box... _Riviere thought to herself, so she added _dagger _to her list of objects. _Well, I think that_'s _enough ideas for now. _Riviere closed her journal, but before she could put everything away, decided that it might also be wise to write down anything else she had observed that day, specifically about the mysterious woman. She opened the book once more and picked up her quill. _Important note, _Riviere wrote, _regarding the woman we saw. First of all, __she was definitely a she. Men don't tend to walk that gracefully, nor have a voice like she did. Plus her figure, though cloaked, was unmistakably feminine, as I'm pretty sure she was noticably bustier than I am... _Riviere stopped writing and looked down at her chest. _Yes, she was definitely better endowed than I. But that is of little import. Next, she was somewhat below average height. Well, for a Nord. Or a human in general, actually. I'm sure she was Mer of some kind. She looked to have a slight, agile build, so I'm guessing that she was a Bosmer. Lastly, her voice is worth noting. From what I heard, it was quite deep, and certainly husky. Of course, she could have been disguising her voice somehow, but for now this is all I have. She also had an odd accent, too. I am not entirely sure what it was. It could just be some regional Valenwood accent or something, but I have never been there myself, so I can't be certain..._

Now Riviere put down her quill, satisfied with her notes. Once again, she closed her journal. She leaned over towards the removable stone in the wall, and opened up the alcove, shoved her supplied back in there, and closed it back up once more. She sat there for a few minutes more, deciding what she was going to do next. After a short while, she stood up, stretched, and then walked off to go and look for Brynjolf.


	11. Chapter 10

Riviere awoke quite early the following morning, as her curious mind was running to hard and too fast for her to sleep any longer. She spent an hour or so looking over her notes from the day before, hoping to remember anything else about the mysterious woman and the box. Alas, this pursuit was unsuccessful, and so after putting away her things and getting dressed in a simple blue blouse, leather corset and dark brown trousers, Riviere left her quarters and headed up towards the city above.

* * *

The marketplace was still quiet at this time of morning, as the merchants had yet to emerge from their residences to set up their stalls for the day. A few people entered and exited various homes and places of business around the edges of Riften, yet the majority of the city was calm and peaceful the canal that rippled gently as a breeze swirled through the narrow channel. As the breeze stopped and the water became still again, so did the city. Anyone who had been outdoors was now in, except for Riviere who made her way up from the waterway and onto the upper level. She passed by Mistveil Keep, the large palace like building that the city's Jarl called home, and then turned left at a bridge that crossed over the channel and into the central marketplace. As Riviere passed through the empty ring of stalls, a pair of small tan-feathered birds twisted and swooped gracefully through the air above, before disappearing behind another large building on the opposite side of the marketplace. Riviere entered into this place, the Bee and Barb, an inn famous not so much for its food or lodgings, but rather for some special brews concocted by Talen-Jei, a viridian skinned Argonian who made a living working day and night at the inn. But it was too early in the day for Riviere to be thinking about beverages of that variety, and instead walked up to the counter, which was presided over by another reptilian being by the name of Keerava, and bought herself half a snowberry tart to eat and small bottle of light ale to drink. After paying and thanking the Argonian woman tending the counter, Riviere walked to the other side of the inn and took a seat at an empty table. Most of the tables were in fact empty a that time, however two of the central tables were occupied at this hour; one by an old Nord, a man who in Riviere's experience was quite unpleasant given his hatred of the Empire and anyone affiliated as such. The other table was taken by a pair of young women, one fair haired and skinned, the other with a dark complexion and short cropped ebony hair, both of whom were eagerly gossiping about something. Riviere had seated herself closer to the latter table, in the hopes that she could listen in on the excited conversation without actually being a part of it, as Riviere was not a gossip herself. She didn't care much for the social lives of others, and so didn't care much for idle chatter such as many people tended to engage in, however there was something about this particular discussion that drew Riviere's curiosity. Most likely, it was the fact that she had heard, quite clearly, one of the young women mention something about another dragon attack, this time near Whiterun. Intrigued, Riviere sat there and ate while she listened intently to the rest of the conversation.

"Do you think it's really true?" questioned the fair-haired girl.

"Why of course it is! I heard it from some travellers who had just come from the city and saw the dragon for themselves!" replied the dark-haired girl.

"How exciting! And dangerous... Still, oh so exciting! But... What does it all mean, then? If the dragons really are returning, then why?"

"Who knows, dear. I sure as hell don't. But I do know something else that I heard from those travellers, something else delightfully exciting!"

"Well go on! Tell me!"

"The travellers also said that when the dragon came, a group of guards led by the Jarl's housecarl went off to take care of it. But someone else, a man, went with the guards. I don't know all the details about what happened after that, but the important thing is that the group of guards plus the other man managed to kill the dragon!"

"Wow! That must have been the biggest adventure of their lives..."

"But there's more... The travellers didn't see this happen, but they heard it from the guards who did. They said that when the dragon died, that man who went with them absorbed some kind of power from it! They said it had appeared to take its very soul right out of its body!"

"What?! By the Nine, is that even possible?!" The fair girl's voice had risen to quite a volume by now, and upon realizing this, hushed herself. The dark-haired girl leaned in a little closer to her companion, hushing her own voice a little, meaning that Riviere had to strain herself to hear the rest of the conversation.

"They say that this man may be the _Dragonborn_, the legendary hero!"

"I've heard of that before, a man with the soul and voice of a _dovah_..."

Riviere almost choked on her last bite of food when she heard the word _Dragonborn. _She decided that she had heard enough by this point, and so packed up and left to go back outside. _Dragonborn? _she mused to herself. _Could it be possible... _Riviere stopped by the railing that separated the upper level of Riften from the canal and leaned lazily against it, watching the water flowing smoothly below her. She stood there and stared at the water for a few minutes, thinking things over in her mind. She wanted to see if there was any truth to this new rumour surrounding the _Dragonborn_, as when she was growing up, she had always heard stories of this hero of legend, and was wondering now if there was in fact any truth to them. But she also had that matter of the mysterious woman to attend to, which meant that now, she had two separate things that she wished to investigate, which would potentially be very difficult considering how her boss felt about her investigating on her own. There was also the matter of the dragon itself. Riviere wondered whether not this could be the same beast that had attacked Helgen, and if so, she sure as hell wanted to know why...

* * *

Riviere found Brynjolf sitting by the bar in the Ragged Flagon. Seating herself in the empty seat to his right, Riviere stared into her friend's face until he responded.

"What are you looking at me like that for, lass?" Brynjolf asked, noting Riviere's expression that seemed to be pleading for something.

"I need you to do something for me," Riviere said quietly, leaning in a little closer so that no one else could hear what she was about to say. "I need to do some, uh, investigating..."

"Riva, lass..." Brynjolf replied with a sigh. "You know Mercer wont let you do that..."

"Hence why I'm asking _you..." _Riviere poked Brynjolf gently in the chest as she emphasized the final word of her reply. "I need an excuse, or someone to cover for me while I'm gone, to tell Mercer something to keep him off my back. I should be back by the evening if I leave soon, so it's not like anyone has to do anything too drastic. Maybe just tell him that I'm following up on _that case..._"

Again, Brynjolf sighed. "Where are you thinking of going, then?"

"Whiterun. There was another dragon attack, like Helgen, and I want to see if there's a connection."

"Ah, yes. I heard about both of those attacks. Which reminds me, were _you _ever going to tell me about the dragon at Helgen, because if I recall, you didn't exactly mention that bit..."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Riviere shrugged. "I was going to, but then I forgot-"

"Because you were too busy thinking about that young Legionnaire, aye lass?"

"Oh shut up," Riviere said with a gentle punch against Brynjolf's arm. "Can we just get back to my investigation request, please?"

"Sure thing. And actually, I have an idea of how to convince Mercer that your journey to Whiterun is justified. I can mention that you think you have a lead on that mysterious woman, yes, but I also have a better idea. Mercer just sent someone, not sure who, to do a job for Maven Black-Briar over in Whiterun. Apparently though, Maven asked for _you_ by name, but Mercer wouldn't let you go because of, well, you know why... Anyway, I could say that since Maven had requested your involvement in the matter, because of course you are the best suited to the job, I said that whoever was sent could probably need some assistance. He'll be mad, sure, but at least he wont be in as much trouble with Maven if she finds out who he sent in your place, and therefore if I can remind him of that, he should be a little more understanding of your absence."

"I guess that could work," Riviere mused. "But honestly, it doesn't really matter what you do. Just as long as Mercer doesn't kill either of us when I get back, everything should be fine."

"Aye, lass," Brynjolf said. "Well, if you're wanting to be back at a reasonable time, you'd best leave as soon as possible."

Riviere leaned over and put her arms around her friend. "Thank you, Brynjolf. I'll try not to be gone for too long."

And with that, Riviere stepped down from her seat and walked through the Ragged Flagon, leaving by way of the door on the other side that led into the Ratway, and eventually outside.


	12. Chapter 11

Riviere took a somewhat circuitous route to Whiterun. Instead of heading directly to the city, she instead went further around it; she stopped at the Western Watchtower, the place she knew to be the location where the dragon had attacked so recently.

The tower had been a dilapidated structure for quite some time, yet it was even more so now. Much of the ground around the tower was burnt black, and pieces of rubble were strewn in every direction. Parts of the tower itself were also charred, and some of the interior was still producing a dark smoke. The destruction was something to behold all on its own, but that was not the true reason behind Riviere's detour. Instead, she had come seeking any remains of the dragon that had attacked, though from what she had heard, there was not much to see of the beast. Indeed, there was little more than a pile of bones left behind, but the bones were so huge and so intriguing that Riviere was no less than enthralled. She moved slowly towards the giant remains, and even though she knew that the beast was no longer a threat, she could not help but exercise a cautious air as she approached. She walked until she was standing close in front of the dragon's huge skull, and couldn't help but stare amazedly at its size. She knew that dragons were gigantic beasts, of course. But until now, she had not realized just how much so. She reached out with her right hand and placed it on the edge of the skeletal muzzle, and ran her hand down its bony snout until she reached the edge of its mouth. She carefully moved her hand down along the side of the mouth and gently touched the edge of one of the dragon's teeth. _Still sharp… _she removed her hand from the beast's mouth and stepped back a little. Riviere wished she could stay there a while and study the dragon some more, but knew that she had to get going if she was to return to Riften at an acceptable hour that evening. She sighed disappointedly, and began to walk in the direction of Whiterun, when she stopped beside one of the dragon's hind legs. She peered at the foot; large as it was, it was comprised of a series of smaller bones, some of which looked like they had been considerably weakened over time. Riviere bent down and tapped on some of the smaller bones. Most of them were still firmly attached, but a few moved slightly under her touch. _Perhaps I can remove some of these ones, _Riviere thought. She grabbed a hold of one of the bones and gave it a gentle tug. It moved a little, but didn't come away from the rest of the structure. She pulled again, a little harder this time, but it still would not break away. _I need to get this free somehow, _Riviere said to herself, scratching her head pensively. _But I can't just cut it. Not with my blades, anyway. They're too small. _Riviere mumbled to herself, something about why she should start carrying a bigger weapon, but then she had an idea. _There was quite a large group of guards that came down here to fight the dragon, and I doubt that they all made it back home again… _Quickly, Riviere paced around the dragon to see if there were any fallen soldiers lying on the ground. To her disappointment, there was no one there. _Perhaps they took the bodies back to the city… _she sighed. But just a she was about to leave again towards the city, she spied something glittering out of the corner of her eye. She walked over to the source of the shimmer, and found a guard's war axe on the ground, a few metres away from the ruins of the tower.

"Gods be praised!" Riviere said aloud, throwing her hands into the air in a gesture of gratitude. She picked up the axe and the returned to where she had stood before to inspect the dragon's leg. "Let's try this again…"

Riviere angled the axe blade against the skeletal foot in such a manner that when swung, it should strike a group of smaller bones, hopefully separating them from the rest of the foot. They would be shattered for sure, but she didn't care. Riviere just wanted some bone fragments to have analysed. She didn't care for how perfectly formed each of the bones was, as she was not going to be displaying them anywhere for people to observe. After muttering something to herself again, this time something about hoping that pieces of bone would not fly up into her face, she readied the axe to strike. She lifted it backwards, and then swung it down against the bones. She heard a loud crack, and a few splinters came away from the bones, but nothing too dramatic happened. _Try again. _Riviere readied the axe and struck down a second time. Now, a few of the bones began to break away from the edges of the structure. _That should be enough to break them free…_ Riviere dropped the axe, but instead of trying to pull on the bones, she stood up, lifted her right foot, and then stomped down hard of the loosened patch of bones. Her foot broke through, and a pile of bones fell through with it. This action had caused a small amount of pain to her foot, but Riviere was pleased that she had managed to collect herself some dragon bones. She bent down again and picked up the pieces of bone, and then stuffed them into a pouch that was strapped to her belt. And then, with a final awe-filled glance at the felled beast, Riviere turned on her heels and headed, without stopping this time, to Whiterun.

* * *

The city of Whiterun was a large settlement that exhibited the sturdy, simple yet beautiful architecture of the Nords. Every wall was constructed from light coloured wood and stone, and the yellow tiled roofs made the city stand out from the rest in the province. It was just after midday, so it was no surprise that the streets of were bustling and noisy as people darted in and out of houses and stores, chatting to friends and neighbours as they went. Riviere passed along the lowest level, the Plains District, where all the city's businesses lined both sides of the street, eventually leading to the marketplace at the far end. As Riviere walked towards a large building at the far side of the marketplace, almost every conversation fragment she heard had something to do with the dragon attack or the supposed return of the _Dragonborn._ When she reached the large building, an inn called the Bannered Mare, she entered and walked straight to the bar. A brown haired woman was behind the bar, rummaging through a chest up against the wall.

"Excuse me," Riviere called quietly over the counter. "You're the innkeeper, right?"

The other woman turned around, slightly startled by the sudden appearance of Riviere. "Oh, hello dear. Sorry, didn't notice anyone come in." She stood up, brushed her hands against her knees to clean the dust from them, and then walked over towards the counter. "And yes, I am, although perhaps for not too much longer. But never mind that... What can I do for you today? A room perhaps? Or something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Riviere replied. "Actually, I'm just here to ask a question about someone who may have passed through here in the last few days. I thought I'd begin here since you innkeepers are known for your knowledge of city comings and goings."

The innkeeper smiled. "I guess we are. Well, I might be able to help you. Who are you looking for?"

"Well, I don't have a name. Or even a description, for that matter... But I heard about a traveller who came through here recently, and he was the one who helped the guards take down that dragon yesterday..."

"Oh, you mean the _Dragonborn_? He was here, alright! I don't know his name, either. But I'll never forget that handsome face, or that gorgeous dark hair, or those delightful arms, or that absolutely wonderful voice... oooh, was he something."

Riviere had to try quite hard to avoid bursting into laugher at the innkeeper's vivid recollection. "Was there anything else you can tell me about him?"

"Uh, hmm. Let's see... Like I said, I didn't catch his name, or where he was going, or anything else really. Oh, wait a minute! I did overhear something quite interesting, just after he came back from fighting that dragon with the guards, he came here for a well earned drink with a few other men. Now, normally, I don't just intentionally eavesdrop on entire conversations, but this was very intriguing. He was saying how this dragon was not the first that he had seen. He said that he had been at Helgen and had seen that attack first-hand, and apparently the dragon that they killed out there was definitely not the one that had destroyed Helgen."

Riviere was amazed at this piece of information. "Wow! You certainly did catch a lot of interesting information there, and for that I must commend you."

"Was that helpful?" the innkeeper asked with a smile.

"Yes! Incredibly so, in fact," Riviere replied. "That's a lot more than I was hoping for."

"Really?" the innkeeper leaned against the counter, looking curiously at Riviere. "Don't tell me you've seen him before, and were as enthralled as I was. Wouldn't surprise me, though..."

This time, Riviere couldn't stop herself from laughing. "No, no, no," she answered after calming herself down again. "I've never seen the man before. But I heard about the return of the Dragonborn from some people in Riften, and was curious to see if there was any truth to the stories. Apparently, there is."

"Ah, I see. Well, in that case I am sorry that I don't know where he was headed. But maybe some of the guards he was with would know. Or, if it's possible, you could maybe arrange a meeting with Irileth, the Jarl's housecarl, up at Dragonsreach. She may know something, as she was the one who led the group down to the watchtower."

"I'll go ask around up there before I leave town, then. But thank you very much, though. You've been a wonderful help."

"Any time, dear."

With a final nod of thanks, Riviere turned towards the front doors of the inn, and walked back outside into the marketplace. A light breeze was swirling around, picking up leaves from the ground and depositing them in different places around the street. Riviere looked up the hill to her right. Up a flight of stairs was the Wind District, the residential area of Whiterun. Beyond this, up an even taller flight of stairs, was the Cloud District, where the huge fortress named Dragonsreach stood high above, looking down on the city below and over the rocky plains surrounding the city on all sides. Riviere looked towards this majestic structure, and then began the steep trek upwards to the highest point in the city.

* * *

Dragonsreach was an mesmerising structure, both inside and out. Riviere had entered into the Great Hall, a large three levelled space where much of the Jarl's entertaining was done. It featured a large central staircase connecting the bottom and middle levels, two large dining tables, a central fire pit, and a throne platform in the middle, and a raised level behind this accessible via a stairwell to the right of the Jarl's throne. The Jarl's throne was empty at this moment, as apparently he was off attending to a personal matter involving a particularly troublesome son of his. Yet even though the throne was empty, two guards flanked the sides as always. The level behind the throne was home to a war room of sorts, where the Jarl did military planning as necessary at a large table topped with a flagged map of the province. There was also a balcony up here that stretched around the main hall, which served as a good place to watch proceedings below without getting in the way. It was up on this balcony, on the right hand side, that Irileth, the housecarl, was standing by herself, looking over the edge at anyone who walked in through the giant doors downstairs. Upon noticing Riviere, whom she was not at all familiar with, she signalled for one of the guards beside the throne to halt this newcomer. The guard promptly followed this command, and so swiftly walked across the hall and down the stairs in the centre to meet Riviere, who had been too distracted by her surroundings to move beyond the entry level. When the guard reached Riviere, he startled her with a surprisingly loud and abrupt remark of "who the hell are you?"  
Both startled and surprised at this, Riviere could not immediately think of a reply other than "uh... pardon?"

"He asked you who you were, to which I wish to add, why are you here?" This question came from Irileth, who had come down from the balcony to see what this strange girl was doing wandering into the palace. Irileth was a Dunmer woman with the characteristic dark grey skin of her people, and a head of striking crimson hair that fell to her shoulders. She was clad in a thick leather suit, and had a sharp looking sword strapped to her left hip. "Well, go on."

Riviere cleared her throat to explain herself. "My name is Riviere, and I am here to ask a question of the Jarl's housecarl regarding a traveller who passed through here in the last few days."

Irileth smiled a little, slightly amused by the fact that the girl seemed to have no idea who she was speaking to. "I am Irileth, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater's housecarl," she introduced herself.

"Oh... Of course... Sorry, I didn't realise..."

"I can see that." Irileth had been standing somewhat rigidly since she had arrived, obviously wary of Riviere's presence. But now she relaxed, as she decided that the young Imperial did not appear to be a threat of any kind. Irileth waved her hand to the guard who was still standing there, signalling for him to return to his post. With a nod, he ascended the stairs and returned to his position. Then Irileth focused her attention back to Riviere. "So tell me, then, what you wished to ask me."

"I was just curious about someone who came through here recently, a man whose name I do not know. All I know is that he was the adventurer who helped you fight that dragon by the Watchtower yesterday."

"Oh yeah? The _Dragonborn _as my men keep saying... What about him?"

"Well, I got a nice description from the innkeeper in the city, but she couldn't tell me his name."

Irileth raised her eyebrows. "Why, you blindly in love with the man too, like half of the women in this city are lately?"

"What? No! No way! I've never even seen him! Gods, why do people keep thinking that..." Riviere shook her head. " No, I just wanted to know if I could meet this Dragonborn, as I grew up with so many stories about the ancient heroes, and was curious to know if he could live up to the legends."

"I don't know about that," scoffed Irileth. "He certainly was a charmer, though a little too much so for my taste. He was a great fighter, sure, but he was incredibly sure of himself, and for some reason, he just seemed a little too, oh I don't know... A little too much..."

"Got it," replied Riviere. "But did you catch his name by any chance?"

Irileth was about to apply in the affirmative, but she stopped herself and began to frown. "Actually," he said, "I don't recall hi ever properly introducing himself. Not to me at least, or anyone when I was around. I'm sure I would have remembered. How peculiar..."

"That is strange." Riviere began to frown also. "And interesting," she added, "how no one seems to know who he actually is...

"I...I'll have to look into this. Right away, actually. I'm sorry, but do you mind? This troubles me, perhaps more than it should. Huh. I think I see now why you're so curious about the man..."

"Mhm," nodded Riviere. "Well, if you're going, then so shall I. I have a long way to travel now, anyway, so I had probably better start on home."

"Uh, yes..." Irileth said distractedly as she began to turn to go upstairs. "Farewell, I suppose..." She waved a hand in Riviere's general direction before hurrying off upstairs, muttering to herself the whole way, something about "that damn Dragonborn. Knew that bastard was trouble..."

Riviere stood staring up at the ceiling for a few moments, mulling over in her mind everything that she had just learned. Finally, satisfied that she was not going to learn anything more that day, she exited Dragonsreach and then made her way to the stables outside of Whiterun where she hoped to find Bjorlam , her carriage driver friend, to take her all the way back to Riften.


	13. Chapter 12

"Did you have fun on your little excursion?" Mercer asked condescendingly without looking up from the book on his desk. He continued to flip through the pages as Riviere prepared her answer.

"Yes, sir. It was a rather nice day out," she replied with a forced smile. "But it was strictly business related this time, not wandering off on my own again."

"So I heard. Brynjolf said that you were going to help with the Honningbrew matter, as you were the one requested by Maven. However, it would appear that you never made it to the meadery, am I correct?" Now Mercer raised his eyes, which were flashing with anger.

"That is true," Riviere answered, trying hard to hide her nervousness. "But that is because when I arrived in Whiterun, I learned that the job was already done and that there was nothing left for me to do. If I had arrived earlier, I would have been able to assist."

"But I thought you left not long before Brynjolf came and spoke to me, which would mean that you should have had plenty of time to spare once you got there. Oh wait, don't tell me, you made a detour, you stopped for a bite to eat, you took the long way there. Well, I don't really give a damn what you did today." Mercer sighed. "As much as I would love to present you with the punishment that you deserve for yet again defying my orders, you are not going to be remaining here long enough for me to do so."

"E...excuse me?" Riviere queried, immensely relieved and confused by this statement.

"You have work to do. Now." Mercer picked up a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to Riviere. It was a short letter written on a piece of plain parchment. Riviere read the message to herself, learning that this was a note written to the ex-proprietor of Honningbrew Meadery. In summary, it stated that the meadery was to begin producing its mead quickly and in as high quantities as were possible, the purpose being to cause as much competition for Maven Black-Briar and hopefully even run her out of business. But what caught Riviere's intention was not this incredibly dangerous proposal, but a small symbol printed at the top of the paper; a small dagger printed over a black circle. Riviere had seen this symbol before.

"You should recognise that symbol," Mercer stated. "It's the same one that was on the top of the Bill of Sale you recovered from Goldenglow Estate a few weeks ago. Curious, yes?"

"Very much so..."

"And you know what this means?" Mercer asked. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "Delvin thinks were being cursed. This is proof that we are in fact not being cursed, but rather intentionally sabotaged. And that's what you're going to investigate."

"Alright then. What do I need to do?"

"You're going to need to go to Solitude and talk to someone. In the Bill, it mentioned someone by the name of _Gajul-Lei_. It just so happens that this is an alias used by an old acquaintance of ours, named _Gulum-Ei._ He's an Argonian dockworker for the East Empire Company. He's our best lead. Now, as to why I'm sending _you _to do this. I hate to admit it, but as Guild Scout, you are the best suited to stealth and shadowing. If you can't convince Gulum-Ei for information, you may end up needing to tail him, or find some sort of leverage to use against him. We need someone who can stay out of sight, and you fit that profile."

Riviere smiled. This was perhaps the first time that Mercer had ever shown any recognition of her talent, which meant a lot to her. But her smile quickly dissolved when she remembered where Mercer was sending her. "Uh, okay," began Riviere. "Not that I don't agree that I am well suited for this task, but Solitude?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"Well, it's just that I may have a slight issue with the Thalmor right now, and they have a headquarters right there in the city. Not that there have ever been many of them hanging around, but now that I seem to have moved up on their wanted list..."

Mercer rolled his eyes. "Kid, you can take a chance at getting spotted by one of those Dominion bastards, or you can stay here and find out just how much I've had enough of your little adventures..."

Riviere was about to protest again, when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned and saw Brynjolf standing behind her. He had entered the Cistern just in time to hear Mercer's threat, and immediately came over to intervene before anything could happen. "Enough. Again," Brynjolf said harshly, directing his gaze towards Mercer, as usual.

Mercer had been about to say something, but thought better of it and closed his mouth. Instead, he just glared after the others as Brynjolf led Riviere away to the other side of the Cistern.

"Are you alright, lass?" Brynjolf asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. I want to stab Mercer through his face, but what else is new," Riviere added, near whispering so that her remark was heard by no-one other than her friend.

Brynjolf chuckled, but then became quiet. "I take it your little discussion was about that job he wants to send you on."

"Yes, it was. It sounds interesting too, but I just don't think that walking right up to the Thalmor headquarters is a good idea."

"I said the same thing when Mercer told me about this before. But he didn't care. He just wants the job done, and quite frankly, I think you're actually safer if you go to Solitude rather than stay here right now..."

Riviere cast a quick glance back to Mercer, who had gone back to reading the book on his desk. "Yes, I was rather getting that impression..."

"So anyway, when I decided that he wasn't about to take no for an answer, I thought about how to make sure that you could finish the job while not having to worry about getting caught by the Thalmor. I did some research, and learned that the headquarters is supposed to be mostly empty, as usual."

"Right, because for the city with their headquarters in it, there are surprisingly few of them around."

"But I also learned that there is to be some sort of party going on at the Thalmor embassy in about a week, and many of their agents will be needed there to help planning and getting everything ready. Apparently, they have all gone over there today for briefing until the day after tomorrow, which is why I said to Mercer that if you were to leave tonight, work the job tomorrow, and be back as soon as possible, you shouldn't run into any trouble, and Mercer could have his information very quickly."

"Huh. That's convenient... And if that's the case, then I really should have no problem."

"Exactly. Sound like a plan, lass?"

"Indeed it does."

"And while you're there, who knows. Maybe you might run into that Imperial friend of yours. I hear they're supposed to be training in the city tomorrow."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Riviere sighed.

"Not a chance, lass. Not a chance," Brynjolf grinned.

* * *

After Riviere had left, Brynjolf had gone over to Mercer's desk and just stood there until his boss looked up at him.

"What?" Mercer asked when he realised that Brynjolf wasn't about to leave.

"Mercer, you need to stop threatening Riviere like that, because I know you, and I know that you were serious when you said that you wanted to punish her for her, uh, adventuring. I realise that it's a bit of a problem, but threatening her isn't working in case you haven't realised."

"Then what the hell do you want me to do about it, huh? Ignore her? Not going to happen. And the only other thing to do besides ignore her or threaten her is to actually hurt her, and honestly, I am almost at the point where I am not going to hesitate anymore."

"Mercer... We both know that you can't do that," Brynjolf warned.

"Or what?" Mercer replied, raising his voice a little.

"Or _what_?" Brynjolf repeated, also raising his voice. "Like it or not, Mercer, that girl is under our protection. She has been formally declared a ward of the Thieves' Guild, and every branch thereof across Tamriel is expected to honour that order."

"Yeah, by order of her _brother._ Well you know what? I don't really care anymore. How long has it been since you have even seen that man, huh? Over a decade, now? How do you even know if he's still alive? And actually, I never even met him myself, so I always had my doubts as to whether or not he even existed..."

"Enough!" Brynjolf practically yelled. "I'll have you know that while he may be in hiding for an indefinite amount of time, Riviere's brother is and always will be one of the greatest thieves the Guild has ever known, better than you or I will ever be. I don't care whether or not you want to honour his request, but I fully intend to. And if you are going to get in the way of that, then you might want to watch yourself."

"Oh, that's cute. And just who do you think you are to be ordering me around? I am the Guild Master, not you. So if I were you, I'd be watching myself very closely from now on..."

"Fine," Brynjolf muttered. After standing and staring angrily at Mercer for a few seconds more, he turned away and stomped swiftly out of the Cistern.

Mercer just stared after him, shaking his head. _If only I didn't need his skills, _Mercer thought to himself...


	14. Chapter 13

The journey to Solitude was long and the night was cool, though the road was relatively smooth and thus Riviere managed to sleep for most of the ride, huddled beneath the large grey cloak which she always wore when travelling north. She had closed her eyes shortly after Riften had disappeared from view, and had awoken shortly after passing through the town of Dragon Bridge. The sun had now appeared over the horizon as the carriage came to a halt on a stretch of road just outside the stone walls of Haafingar's capital city. Riviere handed the carriage driver a small pouch of gold, and then walked slowly up the hill to the huge entrance gates, which were already standing open at this early hour. A lone guard was standing beside the entrance to the city, barely awake as the girl approached. Riviere nodded to the guard, who lifted his hand in a lazy salute as she passed into the city.

It had been quite some time since Riviere had ventured this far from Riften. She had mostly stayed away from Solitude, especially recently, and had forgotten just how different this huge city was. Riften generally woke to a lazy start in the mornings, whereas Solitude was already beginning to come to life. The vendors had begun to assemble in the marketplace, setting up their stalls with food and drink which people were beginning to purchase already. A group of children was playing tag in the street, darting about the legs of the other citizens who were milling around, waiting for the rest of the businesses to open for the day. One by one, the stores began to unlock their doors, and allow the waiting patrons to enter.

Riviere had been instructed to find Gulum-Ei in the Winking Skeever, a large inn just inside the city walls, a convenient place considering Riviere's stomach was telling her that it was breakfast time. Upon entering, Riviere walked across the large downstairs room, searching inconspicuously as she went for the Argonian she was meant to be meeting. She eventually found him, sitting alone at a private table by the bar. After buying herself a crème filled pastry and a bottle of light ale, she joined the Argonian at his table. As Riviere sat down, the dark olive skinned reptile looked curiously at his new company.

"Can I... help you?" he asked warily.

Riviere pulled a folded piece of paper out of a pouch strapped to her belt. She opened it and handed it to the Argonian; it was the bill of sale that had been recovered from Goldenglow Estate. "Yes," Riviere replied. "I think you can."

* * *

"Damn lizard... Extorting from a thief!" Riviere muttered to herself as she exited the inn. "The nerve of that n'wah..." She had spent the last half an hour or so trying to convince Gulum-Ei to surrender the information that he had, but no matter how much money she tried to pass into his scaly hands, he had not relinquished that which he knew. In the end, he had agreed to divulge something, but on the condition that Riviere did him a favour first; there was a case of rare wine located in the Blue Palace, the Jarl of Solitude's residence, and Gulum-Ei had a client looking to purchase some of that beverage. If Riviere could sneak past the guards, find the wine, and bring it back to the Argonian, then he would tell her more. Deciding that she had no choice, Riviere had agreed to this task and set off immediately.

If Riviere had considered herself in a hurry, she would have taken the direct route through the city to the palace. However, it was still relatively early, and so she figured there was plenty of time to spare, so she took the long way. Instead of walking down the central street, she climbed a winding ramp beside the Castle Dour, the building she knew as the base of operations for the Imperial Legion in Skyrim. This huge stone fortress was built around a central courtyard. Entering through the archway to the south as Riviere did, the doors leading into the main part of the castle stood guarded by two legionnaires, both of whom nodded to Riviere as she passed. On one side of the courtyard was a separate building, the Emperor's Tower, where he or she stayed when visiting the region. On the opposite side of the courtyard was set of stairs that ran up to a pathway leading along the top of the wall. One end of the pathway led to an upper entrance into Castle Dour, while the other end led to another building; the Thalmor Headquarters. Riviere could not help but freeze in her tracks as she noticed where she was walking by. She could not see any agents around, and was sure that they were gone as Brynjolf had said. _Still... _Riviere shuddered. _Should have gone the other way... _But what was done could not be changed, and so Riviere kept walking through the courtyard, berating herself for her possibly rather poor decision to go this way. She walked by a large fire pit that was located in the centre, and stopped for a moment, pondering why on earth it was lit at this time, when the sun was shining brightly just overhead. Riviere was about to continue onwards when she looked a little beyond the fire pit, to a row of three archery targets that were lined up against the wall. A group of about a dozen Imperial soldiers was standing around, watching as another three practised firing at the targets. Riviere had noticed the group before, but only now that she was closer did she recognize one of them. At first, Riviere had thought that maybe now was not the best time to interrupt the training session, but she then decided that if she didn't take the opportunity now, it would most likely disappear, as that was how Riviere's luck usually went. Slowly and quietly, Riviere crept up beside Hadvar, who was standing towards the back of the group, paying close attention not so much to the man instructing the group, but rather to the poor technique of one of the soldiers practising in front.

"You'd think he'd never held a bow before," Riviere whispered into Hadvar's ear.

Without looking towards the sound of the voice, which Hadvar hadn't been paying enough attention to to recognise initially, he whispered back, "it seems that way, huh..." But after a few seconds, he did realise who was standing beside him. Surprised, he turned and looked at Riviere, who just smiled back. "What... uh, hello!" he continued to whisper. He looked in the direction of the commanding officer who was talking to the group of soldiers, and after silently signalling that he was stepping out for a little while, he turned back to Riviere. "Come on," Hadvar said. "We can go up there." He motioned to the walkway above the courtyard. "I was just watching them train, but I don't really need to be there right now. I don't train until later."

Together, they climbed the stairs and walked along the top of the wall until they came to one of several balconies that overlooked the courtyard. They stood there for a while, just looking down at the other soldiers training with their bows, until Hadvar finally began to speak.

"Wasn't sure I'd be seeing you again," he began. "Well, not this soon, anyway... Not that I don't want to see you, though. It's great that you're here! Really really great!" Hadvar's cheeks were reddening ever so slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. "But, um... so anyway... What brings you to Solitude?"

"Uh, you know, work..." Riviere had to think for a minute about her answer. She obviously didn't want to say what he was really doing there, but she didn't want to lie either. Not to him, anyway.

Hadvar raised his eyebrow. "Uh huh... What exactly is it that you do anyway?"

"Well... right now I'm trying to get some information regarding a business proposal that is of importance to my boss. He's a real bastard, but if I get paid then it's almost worth it."

"Ah. I see. So, you're a what, some kind of messenger, then?"

"Mmm, well, no, not exactly. It's complicated, actually."

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"Not unless you really, absolutely, positively want me to tell you..."

"I guess I don't really, absolutely, positively want to know, do I," Hadvar replied with a mock sigh. "Not right now anyway..."

"Good, because I actually have to get back to my work. I'm really sorry, but I was on my way to get something when I saw you and figured I ought to say hello. I hate to run away like this, but..."

"It's alright. Actually, I think my training will begin soon, so I need to head back down there anyway. But again, it was really good to see you, Riviere." Hadvar extended his hand towards Riviere, who took it in hers and shook it with a smile.

"You too, Hadvar," Riviere replied. "Well, goodbye then! For now, at least. I may not see you again before I leave, but if I am back in Solitude again soon, I'll be sure to look for you." Riviere turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing," she added, turning back. "If you're ever near Riften, come looking for me. If you can't find me yourself, ask around and someone should know where I am."

"Will do!" Hadvar waved after Riviere, who waved back as she walked towards the stairs.

"Goodbye!" they both said together.

* * *

With a loud thump, Riviere dropped the case of Firebrand Wine down on the table in front of Gulum-Ei. "You happy now?" she asked.

The Argonian looked upon the small crate with a satisfied expression. "Ah, yes. Good. This should do nicely."

"I should hope so. I nearly got caught _three times _by the palace guards! Three!"

"Well then, I suppose that I should reward you for your troubles with more than just a few words." Gulum-Ei reached down beside him and picked up a fist-sized leather bag. "Soul gems," he said as he handed the bag to Riviere. "If you're a mage, then you can use them. If not, they should fetch a nice price."

"Uh, thanks?" Riviere replied, not quite sure what to do with the interesting and unexpected gift.

"Now, to keep up my end of the bargain," Gulum-Ei continued. "That letter you brought was given to me by a woman. Very mysterious, and very wealthy given the amount of gold she gave me so that I could purchase Goldenglow Estate. I was to be a broker of sorts. Now, what I also know is that she's angry, and that anger is directed towards Mercer Frey. However, what I don't know is her name."

Riviere said nothing, but something didn't seem right about that last remark. Something in the Argonian's eyes seemed to contradict his denial.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, since our transaction is complete, I must be moving on." Gulum-Ei stood, and with a nod to Riviere, he headed for the door.

Riviere could have let him go at this point and just taken what she had learned back to Mercer. But she couldn't get over the thought that Gulum-Ei was definitely hiding something, something that was no doubt important. So Riviere decided to do one of the things that she did best, and that was to become a shadow...


End file.
